


Once More, With Feeling

by beesandtoes



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Disturbing Themes, Groundhog Day, Lots of major character death, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Self-Harm, Time Loop, but dw it's temporary, but there’s some love and friendship thrown in there too, just rly horrible coping methods in general, lots of unhappiness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2019-10-17 19:12:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 56,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17566325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beesandtoes/pseuds/beesandtoes
Summary: Akira's determined not to let Akechi die this time. Akira's determined not to let Akechi die this time. Akira's determined not to let Akechi die this time. Akira— well, he'll get it next time for sure.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> groundhog day is the best trope ever. fight me on this

_”Change Shido’s heart… in my stead… end his crimes… please!”_

_“…I promise.”_

_BANG BANG_

_“His signal is… gone…”_

Akira jerked awake, breathing heavily as he blinked the last traces of the engine room out of his vision. He groped around for his phone, wincing as he brought the bright light up to his face. 8 am. He couldn’t have gotten more than a few hours of sleep.

“Hey, you okay?” Morgana asked groggily from where he was lying on his chest.

Akira sighed, reaching up and pushing his sweaty bangs out of his face. “Yeah,” he reassured, scratching the cat behind his ears. “Just a dream. You can go back to sleep.” Morgana seemed satisfied enough with that answer, curling up and drifting off once more.

There was an unread message from Futaba on his phone, sent only a few minutes prior. He clicked on it and squinted tiredly against the blurred text.

_We going in today?_

Akira scrubbed a hand over his face tiredly. It was true that they should send the calling card as soon as possible, but he was just so _exhausted_. Part of him wanted to curl up under his blankets and never move again.

He shook his head. He had a promise to keep. _Sure. You got the calling card situation sorted out?_ he sent back. Futaba’s reply came almost immediately.

_Woah! You’re awake? Before noon? I might die of shock._

_Ha ha._

_Don’t stress about the calling card, I’ve got it covered. For now let’s just focus on securing the route._

Akira blinked. _Pretty sure we already did that._

There was a long pause between messages. _Dude, go back to sleep. I don’t think your brain works this early._

Akira frowned, but shrugged it off, nudging Morgana off of him and getting up. There was no way he was going back to sleep. Not when he was thrown back into the engine room every time he closed his eyes.

He spent some time helping Sojiro set up for opening (“You’re awake already? Did hell freeze over?”) before making himself a cup of coffee and sitting down at the counter. He couldn’t stop his gaze from drifting to the vacant seat second from the end, a complicated feeling twisting in his gut. He rubbed at his eyes tiredly.

Sojiro slid a plate of curry in front of him, and he picked at it distractedly, his mind elsewhere. Morgana came to join him eventually, stretching out lazily and jumping up onto the stool beside him. “Hey, everything alright?” the cat asked, tilting his head to the side curiously. “Those are some serious dark circles you got there.”

Akira patted his head in lieu of a response. Morgana frowned, but didn’t press the issue.

“Are your friends showing up today?” Sojiro asked. “If they do, tell the skinny one there’s extra curry in the fridge.”

“Oh, yeah, I think so,” Akira replied, taking out his phone and pulling up the group chat. _Meet at Leblanc when school is out?_ “Thanks, I’ll let him know.”

Sojiro hummed. “And you stop playing with your food and finish up before the regulars start coming in,” he said briskly. Akira glanced down at his plate, feeling a little nauseous at the thought of eating any more. He swallowed the bile down in his throat and stood up.

“I’ll have the rest for lunch,” he mumbled as he stuck his plate in the fridge. Sojiro raised an eyebrow at him, but he ignored it, rinsing out his coffee mug and heading back up to his room.

He flopped backwards onto his bed and pulled out his phone. There were several replies to his recent message.

_It’s Sunday, dude._

_Man, must be nice to miss school for so long you completely lose track of time._

_Um, I don’t know if him almost getting assassinated and having to fake his own death is something to be jealous of…_

Akira blinked, his eyebrows coming together in confusion. “Morgana, yesterday was Sunday, right?” he asked. Morgana gave him a weird look.

“No, it was Saturday,” he said matter-of-factly. “You reaaaally didn’t get enough sleep last night.” 

Akira frowned, before shrugging it off. He could’ve sworn he’d seen the shopping channel on TV last night, but to be fair, he hadn’t exactly been in a great state of mind when they’d returned from Shido’s palace. Actually, now that he thought about it, a lot of what had happened yesterday after the watertight door had closed was lost in a thick haze.

He turned back to his phone. _Right, sorry. Whenever you guys can show up is fine, then._

_You got it leader!_

Akira spent the rest of his morning making infiltration tools, attempting to keep himself busy and ward off his thoughts. He had to stay focused. Today was finally the day they would take Shido down. It was quite possibly the most important thing they would ever do.

_“Change Shido’s heart… in my stead… end his crimes… please!”_

He hissed as he sliced his thumb on the lockpick he was making, blood immediately welling up and dripping onto his desk.

“…You sure there’s nothing you wanna talk about?” Morgana asked. “You seem pretty out of it. Maybe you should take a break and we’ll infiltrate again tomorrow.”

Akira shook his head. “The longer we wait, the more people suffer because of that bastard,” he muttered, wrapping a tissue around his throbbing thumb. “Let’s just get it done.”

Morgana blinked and tilted his head. “It’s weird to see you so serious,” he said blankly. “Well, I’m glad you’re fired up. Let’s take this guy down!”

The other thieves started filtering in at around noon, starting with Futaba and Ann. “Oh, good, Haru isn’t here yet,” Ann said brightly. “Hey, Akira, what would you think of having her birthday party here next weekend? I know it was almost a week ago, but we’ve had so much on our plate… hopefully everything’ll be sorted out by then.”

Akira raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t we have this conversation yesterday? My answer hasn’t changed since then,” he teased with a small grin. “I think it’s a great idea.”

Ann gave him a puzzled look. “I… huh?” she said, tilting her head in confusion. “But I just thought of it on the train ride over here…”

“Geez, is Akira psychic now, too?” Futaba asked exasperatedly. “As if you weren’t OP’d enough as it is.”

Before Akira could respond in equal confusion, Ryuji and Yusuke burst in loudly, the latter immediately requesting food. Akira allowed the subject to drop. Feeding Yusuke always took priority.

He wasn’t sure what exactly he was expecting after yesterday, but it definitely wasn’t for everything to be so… normal. Business as usual, not at all like someone had been murdered in front of them less than 24 hours ago. He didn’t really know how to feel about it.

“Alright, we all set?” Ryuji asked once everyone had arrived, drumming on the top of the counter to get their attention.

Akira glanced at Futaba. “The calling card?” he asked, a bit confused as to why it hadn’t been brought up yet. She brushed him off.

“I told you I had it covered! What, you don’t trust me?” she said confidently. Akira blinked. 

“Um, yeah, but…” he said uneasily. Had she already sent it out? It was definitely strange that she would do so without telling him, or even explaining how, but… he did trust her. “I guess that’s fine.” Makoto gave him one of her scrutinizing looks.

“Everything alright? You seem a bit tired,” she asked. “We don’t have to go in today, if you’re not up for it.”

Akira shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“You are acting a little weird,” Ann said, her eyebrows creased in concern. “Sure nothing’s up?”

It was extremely rare that he allowed himself to get irritated, in general, and toward his friends especially. But this was getting ridiculous. There was no way they couldn’t figure out why he might not be in the best mood of his life without him having to spell it out for them.

Was it really just him? It wasn’t like he’d expected them to be in mourning; they had every right to be resentful, some more than others. But even still, he’d sacrificed himself for them in the end. Were they really able to brush that off so easily?

“Let’s get going,” he said firmly, hoping it would get the message across to drop the subject.

 

Stepping back into Shido’s palace made him feel nauseous in a way that had nothing to do with seasickness. Being inside the manifestation of corruption within the hearts of abhorrent adults never failed to stoke the anger constantly simmering within him, but this was a whole other level entirely. The ship beneath his feet was no longer only Masayoshi Shido’s distorted vision of his desires, it was someone’s _grave_. Akira couldn’t wait to watch it sink.

“Helloooo, earth to Joker?” Futaba’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He blinked, pausing in his determined trek toward the main doors. “Where are you going? We gotta find the engine room.”

The nausea escalated. “What?” he asked, maybe a bit more curtly than he’d intended. That was the absolute last place he ever wanted to see again. “Why would we need to go there?”

“Unless you think the Cleaner might be somewhere else…?” Makoto asked carefully. Akira felt a headache coming on.

“The… what?” he replied lamely.

“Dude, did you get hit with confuse or somethin’?” Ryuji asked, patting him hard on the shoulder.

“We haven’t even encountered any shadows yet…” Haru pointed out.

Akira carded a hand through his hair, his confusion quickly morphing into frustration. He just wanted to get this over with and get the hell out. “I don’t understand what any of you are saying,” he said tiredly. “Can someone just explain to me why we’d need to go to the engine room? Please.”

Futaba sighed dramatically. “It’s the only place on the ship we haven’t been to,” she said, slowly, like she was explaining something to a child. “So it makes sense that that’s where the Cleaner would be. Riiight?”

“Why do you keep bringing up the Cleaner? We already got his letter,” he said, desperately looking around to see if any of them were as lost as he was, or at least understood his confusion. All he was met with was blank, concerned stares.

“Joker,” Makoto said, very seriously. “I think we may need to pull out and come back another day. You’re obviously… overtired, or something—”

“Wait, wait,” he cut her off. “Tell me what happened yesterday.”

They were all quiet for several beats. “Yesterday?” Ann asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence and clearly trying to appear casual. She tapped her chin. “Hm… well after school Ryuji and I went shopping, we texted you to see if you wanted to come but you were hanging out with that kid in Akihabara, remember? Umm, I had takeout for dinner…”

“Okay,” Akira cut her off, trying to collect his thoughts and keep his panic at bay. “So we didn’t infiltrate the palace at all yesterday?”

They all stared at him again. “Nope. We didn’t,” Morgana said warily. Akira nodded.

Alright, so he was losing his mind. That was fine. Or maybe this was another nightmare. That would make sense, his brain seemed to be hellbent on making him relive this day. “Great. Well, lead the way then, Futaba,” he said, resigned and very, very tired.

They continued to regard him cautiously as they made their way to the side deck, shooting him concerned glances they thought he wouldn’t notice. He couldn’t blame them, honestly.

When they made it to the vent they’d used to infiltrate the engine room previously, Akira was as shocked as he was not to see that the grate was still perfectly intact. He kicked it off with a little more force than was probably necessary. Then he hesitated.

What were they going to find in there? A dead body? Were bodies even left behind in the Metaverse, or did they fade into dust like the shadows did when they’d been defeated?

Or worse, would it be like none of it had even happened?

“You up for this?” Ann asked him quietly. He shrugged.

“I have no idea,” he said bluntly, before taking the lead.

 

There was no body. Nor was there a closed watertight door, or any indication that there had ever been either of those things. He walked briskly past the main area and toward the back room where he knew the Cleaner would be, ignoring the twisting feeling in his gut as he tried not to let his thoughts wander to the last time he was in this room. He really couldn’t even have a day to get over it, huh? 

Assuming this wasn’t all a dream, or a hallucination, or something. Maybe Takemi’s clinical trials were finally taking a toll on his brain.

“Ann, switch out with Haru,” he commanded detachedly, switching his mask to Rangda. “Haru, keep Tetrakarn on Ryuji and Yusuke, and you two stay on the offensive. Ready?”

He was met with blank stares. “U-um, sure, but we don’t even know if he’s…”

“He’s in there,” Akira interrupted, hopping up into the grate. “Let’s go.”

They took the Cleaner down in minutes. Akira held nothing back; regardless of whether or not this was real, if he really was reliving this day, there were much more important matters to attend to.

“…Wow,” Makoto said after the Cleaner had surrendered his letter and walked off. “You seemed… prepared, Joker.”

“Yeah? I’m thinking of taking over as Oracle,” he said, adjusting his gloves distractedly. He glanced at Futaba. “What do you think? Wanna be leader?”

Futaba hummed thoughtfully. “Do I get health insurance?”

“Nope, no benefits at all. You do get shot in the face sometimes, though.”

Futaba whistled lowly. “You drive a hard bargain,” she said.

“Right. Anyway,” Makoto interrupted. “Shall we move on?”

Akira looked out toward the main area of the engine room hesitantly, adjusting his gloves once more out of nervous habit. Maybe he had been stalling, a bit. “Yeah. Let’s go,” he said, every inch of him protesting as he stepped forward.

He stopped walking after they passed under the ceiling beam, but he didn’t turn around; not even after he heard the _thud_ of a body landing on the floor behind him, not even after his teammates gasped and called out in alarm. “Long time no see,” a familiar voice said, just as it has last time, and Akira let out a shaky breath.

“Akechi,” he said, finally turning around. There he was, in his ridiculous prince costume, much calmer than he had been when Akira had last seen him. Alive. Breathing. “We’re not going to fight you.”

Akechi chucked. “Well, that makes things easier for me,” he said with a shrug, reaching for his mask. “I’m impressed you managed to deceive me. But I won’t fail this time.”

Akira wasn’t prepared for him to summon his persona and attack so quickly; there had been much more lead-in last time, more hesitation. Akechi hadn’t even told them Shido was his father, or made the shadows psychotic to attack them first. He just jumped right in, desperately, like he was running out of time.

“ _Rangda!”_ Akira called at the last second, just barely managing to block the curse attack Akechi had thrown at him. Yusuke, Haru, and Ryuji immediately came to the front lines. “No, get back! I’ll handle it.”

Akechi looked at him strangely, before his expression quickly morphed into fury. “What, do you think I’ll hold back if it’s just you?” he asked, his voice frighteningly steady. “Or do you actually think you stand a chance against me?”

Akira blocked his next attack again, wincing. “I’m not going to fight you,” he said again. “Come with us. We can take down Shido together. Please.”

“Joker, what the hell are you saying?!” Ryuji called. “He’s Shido’s effing _lackey_.”

Akira winced, bracing himself for Akechi’s reaction to that statement. However, he was simply looking at Akira with a perplexed expression. After a few moments’ pause, Akechi shook his head. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, offhandedly, as if he were talking to himself. “I’ve enough of this. Come, _Loki.”_

Dread clenched around Akira’s stomach like a fist as he watched Akechi’s clothes turn black, Loki’s dark form hovering behind him. He knew that even when fighting as a team, they were barely a match for him in this state. 

Things were quickly spiraling out of his control. Not that he’d had a plan to begin with.

“He has another persona?!” Futaba said frantically. “Joker! His power levels are insane, you can’t face him one-on-one!”

Joker quickly threw his arm out to prevent his teammates from coming any closer. “Don’t interfere,” he said firmly. He turned back to Akechi desperately. “You don’t have to do this, Akechi. It’s not too late. We have the same goal, just come with us, _please_.”

Akechi responded with a Laevateinn, and it came too quickly for Akira to block it in time. He gasped in surprise and pain from the sudden attack. “Just shut _up_ ,” Akechi hissed. “It’s my destiny to succeed. You’re just in my way.” He hit him with the same attack again, and Akira felt the breath leave his lungs.

“Oh, to _hell_ with this,” Ryuji said, running forward and immediately hitting Akechi with a Swift Strike. Haru followed up, shooting off a Triple Down before Akechi could even recover.

Akira felt himself panic. No, _no_ , if they weakened him then he wouldn’t be able to fight off his cognitive double, he would lose, nothing would change—

He acted before he could even think, running toward Akechi and reaching for his gun before pivoting and letting off a shot simultaneously. He watched it hit its mark, shattering the glass in the control panel and causing the door to rise between them before anyone could react. It was just like he remembered, except this time, he was on the opposite side.

Akechi seemed to get over the initial shock more quickly than anyone else. “What the _hell_ are you doing?!” he snapped, staring at the barrier that now separated the two of them from the rest of Akira’s team. “What exactly is your plan? Are you trying to protect them? I’ve had enough of your noble sacrifi—”

“I’m trying to protect _you!_ ” Akira interrupted loudly, attempting to ignore the panicked voices of his friends on the other side.

Akechi seemed to be shocked speechless, but it didn’t matter. It was at that moment that Cognitive Akechi decided to show up, in all his insufferable, leering glory.

Fortunately, Akechi wasn’t nearly as weakened as he had been the last time around. He’d sustained minor injuries from Ryuji and Haru, but other than that, he seemed no worse for wear. _Un_ fortunately, the same couldn’t be said about Akira. He could feel himself swaying from the two hits Akechi had managed to land on him, and he’d left all of his healing items back with Makoto. He couldn’t see himself as being much use in the upcoming fight. Not to mention the fact that they were badly outnumbered.

“Captain Shido’s orders,” the cognitive double said, pointing his gun at Akechi. “He has no need for losers.”

“ _Shoot him_ ,” Akira hissed at Akechi. And then, because he’d wished he’d had the chance to say if before, he added: “That’s not who you are. You’re not the person he sees you as.”

Akechi grit his teeth, cocking his gun and aiming it at his cognitive double. “Yes. I am,” he said in resignation. “But that’s not gonna stop me from blasting this thing to hell.” Cognitive Akechi laughed.

“I don’t think so. After all, there is one difference between us,” he said. He quickly switched his aim from Akechi to Akira. He grinned sadistically. “Well? Who do you think can pull the trigger faster?”

Akira blinked in confusion. What would make the cognitive double think Akechi valued his life enough to hesitate? There was nothing to suggest that, other than the sacrifice he’d made once in a different reality. But only Akira knew that reality even existed.

Akechi seemed to be similarly perplexed. “You think I care if you shoot him? Be my guest,” he said, and Akira thought he must have imagined the slight waver in his voice. Cognitive Akechi shrugged off-handedly.

“Regardless, might as well take out all the trash at once,” he said, his voice cold and emotionless. He cocked his gun.

Akira held his breath. Here he was again, staring down the barrel of a gun. Even the face on the other side was the same. Maybe he was just… destined to die this way. Maybe he’d avoided that destiny the last time, and that’s why he was living this day again, to finally meet the fate that had been waiting for him. He squeezed his eyes shut.

At least this would give Akechi the chance to kill his cognitive double. He would survive this time. Akira could be at some kind of peace, knowing that.

Two shots rang out simultaneously, and Akira braced himself from the impact. However, it never came. He opened his eyes in confusion, only to see Akechi standing in front of him, his gun still aimed at the cognitive version of himself.

“You… bastard…” Cognitive Akechi grit out, hunched over and grabbing at what Akira assumed was a new gunshot wound.

Akechi coughed, and Akira let his eyes hesitantly travel to him. There was a pool of blood slowly forming at his feet. “ _Akechi_ ,” Akira said in alarm.

He’d taken the bullet meant for Akira. He’d sacrificed himself for him, _again_.

“Shut up,” Akechi hissed. “I’ll take care of this piece of shit, you fight off the shadows as best as you can.”

Akira almost laughed. Neither of them were in any shape to fight. They weren’t going to win this. “Alright. Got it,” he said anyway, straightening up and turning toward his enemies.

The ensuing fight was a blur of pain and exhaustion. He fought back against the shadows with every last ounce of energy he had in him, and he vaguely processed Akechi joining him at one point, defending Akira in his weakened state at every possible opportunity. Akira could hear his pulse pounding in his ears, could feel his breath coming out in short, desperate bursts, but even then, he kept fighting.

It was over before he realized it. One moment he was fighting for his life, and the next he was on his back, staring up at the engine room ceiling. He let out a shaky breath, and found that even that simple act _hurt_. He was sure he had a few broken ribs, at the very least.

He turned his head to the side, inhaling sharply when he saw Akechi lying a few feet away from him, curled up on his side. Akira felt his breath stop in its tracks as he realized the dark pool Akechi was surrounded by was his own blood. “Akechi? Akechi!” he said desperately, his voice coming out as a weak croak. “Hey, talk to me. Come on.”

Akechi let out a cough, and Akira winced at the wet sound. He met his eyes, and grimaced. “You’re such… an idiot,” Akechi said, his voice weak and breathy. “You can’t… save me.”

“Yes I can,” Akira said immediately, with a firmness he didn’t know he still had in him. “I’m going to. Just hold on a little bit, okay? My teammates will be here any minute.” Akechi didn’t reply.

Akira closed his eyes and waited, focusing on breathing in a way that hurt the least. This was bad. He’d never sustained injuries like this in the Metaverse before, and if the others didn’t get there soon with healing items… he didn’t even want to think about what would happen.

“Joker? Joker!” he heard distantly, but it sounded like it was coming from underwater. He blinked his eyes open once again, wincing against the light.

“…Makoto?” he croaked out, and she sighed in relief, casting a Diarahan over him. He felt his breathing come much easier, but it did nothing to alleviate the exhaustion that went all the way down to his bones. “Akechi… where…” He turned and reached out toward where he knew Akechi lay, but his view was obstructed by Ann and Futaba crowding over the other boy.

Makoto shushed him and ran her fingers through his hair. “We’ll take care of it,” she assured. He felt someone grab his hand firmly, and he shifted to see Ryuji sitting at his other side.

“The eff were you thinking?” he asked, though his voice was more concerned than angry. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed, and for what? The guy who tried to assassinate you?”

Akira grimaced, letting his eyes flutter closed once again. “He’s not our enemy,” he mumbled, feeling his consciousness begin to slip away. “He’s the same as us.”

The next time he woke up, he was in Takemi’s examination room.

“You’re alive!” Futaba said excitedly, hovering over him. “Welcome back, dumbass.”

Akira groaned, turning to see the rest of his team crowded in the small room. Takemi waved them aside and moved in to check his vitals. “What kind of trouble did you get into _this_ time?” she asked with a sigh, though he could tell it was a rhetorical question. He could guess that everyone else had already given her some kind of vaguely believable excuse.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Thanks for patching me up again.”

“We were so worried about you!” Haru said frantically. “Takemi-san said you’d be alright, but you’ve been asleep for nearly six hours!”

Akira glanced up at the wall clock above Takemi’s desk. It was nearly midnight. “I didn’t mean to worry you guys. I’m sorry,” he said. Then all at once, he sat up, looking around frantically. “Where’s Akechi?”

Takemi put her stethoscope back around her neck, glancing away. “I’ll leave you all alone for a bit,” she said. “Don’t try to get up, do you understand?” Akira nodded, and she left to head back to the reception desk.

There was a brief, uncomfortable silence. “About Akechi…” Makoto started, not meeting his eyes. There was a sniff from the corner, and Akira glanced at Ann for the first time. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her face was puffy, like she had been crying for some time now.

He felt his blood run cold.

“No,” he said. “Stop, he’s not… where is he? I need to see him.”

Haru stepped forward and took his hand. “I know you really wanted to save him,” she said softly. “You did everything you could.” Akira closed his eyes tightly. He didn’t want to hear anymore.

“He was… already dead by the time we reached the engine room,” Futaba said, her voice wavering slightly. “When we saw you both lying there… we thought you were dead, too.”

Akira wanted to scream. By some miracle, he’d been given another chance to fix things, and he’d failed. He’d failed Akechi _again_. “No, god, I told him I’d… _fuck_ ,” he swore loudly, causing Futaba to jump. “What was the goddamn _point?!_ ”

“Akira,” Makoto said firmly. “You need to get some rest, okay? You’ve been through a lot. We’ll talk more tomorrow.” He closed his eyes tightly. He didn’t want to talk anymore, ever.

Somehow, he managed to fall back into a restless sleep, Akechi’s bloodied form playing out over and over again behind his eyelids.

\--

Akira jerked awake, breathing heavily as he blinked the last traces of the engine room out of his vision. He groped around for his phone, wincing as he brought the bright light up to his face. 8 am. He couldn’t have gotten more than a few hours of sleep.

“Hey, you okay?” Morgana asked groggily from where he was lying on his chest.

Akira didn’t respond, looking around in alarm. He wasn’t at Takemi’s, he was in his room, completely devoid of any of the injuries he’d fallen asleep with. He glance at his phone again. There was an unread message from Futaba.

_We going in today?_


	2. Chapter 2

“Uh, hello? Earth to Akira?”

Akira blinked, looking up from where he had been mindlessly stirring the pot of curry in front of him. “Hm?” he said distractedly. Ann let out a deeply dramatic sigh.

“I _said_ , you know how Haru’s birthday was last week? Well I was thinking—”

“Right, the party. Yeah. That’s fine,” he muttered, turning off the stove and ladling the curry onto a plate. 

Futaba leaned across the counter and narrowed her eyes. “What’s up with you?” she asked. “You’re acting like a weirdo and you look kinda… sick.”

He _felt_ kind of sick. He didn’t know whether he was more deeply confused, horrified, or disturbed by what was happening to him, but he did know it felt like a rock had dropped in his stomach. This was the fifth day in a row he’d woken up on the same morning. At least, he thought so. He was already starting to lose track.

It really didn’t matter, anyway, because no matter what he did, nothing changed. Akechi still died in that engine room. Akira still couldn’t do anything.

Instead of voicing any of this, though, he just shrugged in reply.

“Hey, if you’re not feeling 100% we don’t have to go in today. Don’t push it,” Ann said kindly. “We still have plenty of time before the deadline.”

Akira shook his head immediately. “No, I’m alright,” he said, trying his best to sound convincing.

Honestly, not going in was something he’d considered. The best way to prevent a bad outcome was probably just avoiding the situation all together, right? But even if that were the case, that didn’t mean that Akechi wouldn’t go in anyway, encounter his double, and lose. And if that happened while Akira sat around and did nothing, he would never forgive himself.

But they couldn’t just go in blindly this time. Something had to change.

“I actually wanted to talk to you guys before the others show up,” he said, leaning against the counter and regarding Ann and Futaba seriously. “I think… there’s a good chance we’re gonna run into Akechi in Shido’s palace.”

Ann startled. “What?! You think so?” she asked in alarm. “That’s bad, isn’t it?”

Futaba, alternatively, didn’t even look up from her phone. “Yeah, I thought so too,” she said offhandedly. “He’s clearly in deep with Shido, there’s no way he’s not gonna notice us messing around in his cognition. That bastard is way too smart.”

“We’d better be prepared then. He’s _really_ strong,” Ann mused. “Probably stronger than we even know.”

“No, that’s… I’m not telling you this so you’ll be prepared to fight him,” Akira said, scrubbing his hand over his face. “The opposite, actually. I need you two… to help me convince him to join us again.”

There was a long, awkward pause. Futaba set down her phone and sighed deeply. “Akira,” she said seriously. “I’m gonna have to ask you to forget about your horny teenage crush and be reasonable for a second.”

Akira choked. “Um, no, that isn’t what I… what?” he spluttered. Of all the responses he’d expected, that… had not been one of them. “I just, I was… wait _what?_ ”

“I think what Futaba meant,” Ann interrupted quickly. “Is that Akechi is um, totally working for Shido. And he hates us. And tried to murder you.”

“And doesn’t anything about that bother you? He’s a kid like us, and Masayoshi Shido is using him as a _hitman_ ,” he said bitterly. “Come on, we’ve seen enough kids get manipulated by adults to know that there’s more to this.”

Ann and Futaba exchanged a glance. “Well, I guess…”

“And he doesn’t hate us,” Akira continued. He paused. “Well… not all of us. That’s why I’m asking you two. I think he genuinely liked you guys, despite everything. If anyone can convince him it’s you.”

Futaba snorted. “He genuinely liked _you_ , Akira. But that didn’t stop him from shooting you in the face,” she pointed out.

Akira sighed. “Well that’s… more complicated,” he muttered.

The thing was, there was no way he was ever going to be able to convince Akechi on his own. Their relationship was too volatile. Akechi just wanted to win against him; he had a complex that Akira wasn’t gonna be able to fix in one conversation. He wasn’t just going to give in and give up everything he’d worked for because Akira asked him to.

But knowing other people actually cared about him, and genuinely wanted to help… that could make the difference. Especially if it was Ann and Futaba, who were, in Akira’s correct opinion, the most likable people in the world.

“If you think this is what’s best, Akira, I trust you,” Ann said after some contemplation. “I’ll try my best. I wouldn’t get my hopes up if I were you, though. I mean, I did try to be nice to him when he was pretending to be one of us, and it’s not like that changed anything.”

Futaba rolled her eyes. “Fine, fine. I’ll sweet talk the insufferable pretty boy too,” she said with a sigh. “It _would_ be better for everyone if we avoided a fight with him.”

“Thanks, you guys,” Akira said with a smile. “This is important to me.”

Futaba narrowed her eyes, and looked like she wanted to respond, but their conversation was interrupted by Yusuke and Ryuji loudly bursting into the café. Akira had Yusuke’s plate of curry in front of him before he even had the chance to ask for it.

“Akira! Thank you!” he said brightly, and it was full of such genuine joy and gratitude that Akira wanted to hug him and never let go. 

After saving Akechi, Akira internally vowed that his next priority during this time-loop situation was to somehow use it to make Yusuke filthy rich.

 

He fully intended on going into the Shido’s palace and, at least initially, doing everything the same as they had the last few times. After all, if he woke up tomorrow and it was actually _tomorrow_ , they’d still need to secure the route to the treasure so they could send out the calling card as soon as possible. Very shortly after they arrived, however, it was clear that wasn’t going to happen.

“What the eff are _you_ doin’ here?!” Ryuji yelped in alarm as their path was suddenly obstructed by one Goro Akechi, leaning casually against the side deck railing.

Akira was equally startled. What on earth could’ve prompted such a drastic change? He hadn’t even done anything yet this time around, had he? Unless…

Akira quickly pulled out his gun and aimed it at the figure before them. “Be careful. This could be Shido’s cognition of him,” he said cautiously. Akechi looked affronted.

“Don’t _ever_ insult me like that again,” he said darkly. “Put your gun away, Joker. Shido doesn’t know what my costume looks like in the Metaverse, it’s obviously me.”

“What, and that’s supposed to be reassuring?” Makoto asked defensively. “If anything, that gives him _more_ reason to shoot you.”

Akira flinched like he’d been burned, quickly putting his gun away. “It’s okay. Stand down,” he said firmly.

“Huh?! C’mon, Joker, let’s beat his ass before he reports back to his _boss_ ,” Ryuji sneered. Akechi’s eyes rolled back into his skull.

“Oh, shut up, Sakamoto,” he said. “If what you really want is to fight, I’d be happy to indulge you.”

Ann stepped forward, suddenly. “No, wait, we don’t,” she said, shooting a nervous glance at Akira. “Akechi… we don’t have to be enemies. Why don’t you come with us?”

To his credit, Akechi tried to hide how startled he was. He glanced between Ann and Akira, but didn’t say anything. Futaba spoke up, instead. “Dude, you know Shido’s definitely using you, right?” she asked dryly. “Come on, you’re smarter than this. Can’t we just give this bastard hell together?”

“Um, what’s goin’ on?” Ryuji said in alarm. “Where did _this_ come from?” Ann stomped on his foot to silence him.

Akechi blinked, and after a few moments, seemed to get over his initial surprise. “Okay,” he finally said. There was a pause. Akechi sighed deeply. “What? I said okay, I’ll come with you. That’s what you wanted, right?”

Akira frowned. There was no way it was that easy; something was wrong. “No. Absolutely not,” Makoto said firmly. “You guys are joking, right? He betrayed us _literally_ a week ago. He’s just going to wait for us to turn around and shoot us all in the back.”

“Give me a break,” Akechi said, still as expressionless as he had been this entire time. “I’m so tired of this. I want to see Masayoshi Shido suffer, just like the rest of you. Let’s just get a move on before I change my mind.”

Yusuke rubbed his temple. “Wait, hold on,” he said. “Aren’t you working _with_ Shido? Isn’t that why you tried to assassinate Akira?”

Akechi turned around and started back toward the main deck. “Oh, right. I’m his bastard son and I despise him,” he said simply. “Come on.”

 

Akira was lost in thought as they made their way back through Shido’s palace, glancing at Akechi every few seconds to see if he could find some kind of explanation in his features. The other boy gave nothing away, however. “Joker,” Makoto hissed in his ear. “Don’t you have anything to say about this? We can’t trust him.”

No, they couldn’t. Akira wasn’t naive enough to think otherwise. But having him around where he could keep tabs on him was better than the alternative. “Let’s just… see what happens,” he mumbled back.

Akechi slowed down slightly, falling into step beside Akira. “So, your strategy was to try to use girls to entice me?” he asked dryly. “Sometimes I wonder how you’ve made it this far, Joker, honestly.”

Akira rubbed the back of his neck. “Um, no, that’s not…” he mumbled. “Look, Akechi, we’d _all_ rather work together against a common enemy than fight you. We’re all in the same boat.”

“Not exactly. I’m the only one who tried to murder you,” he said pleasantly. “You’re such an idiot. If any of you were even remotely reasonable you’d want to kill me, not ask me to _join you_.”

Akira sighed in frustration. If only Akechi knew how hard he was trying to keep him alive. “There’s no way we would ever—” he started, before abruptly pausing as a thought occurred to him. “Wait, you _did_ try to kill me. Aren’t you even… surprised, that I’m alive?”

“Oh, yes,” Akechi said flatly. “Shocked beyond words.”

Akira frowned. “What are you up to?” he asked. Akechi just gave him one of his media smiles in reply.

“Um, by the way, where are we going?” Ann asked. “Weren’t we heading to the engine room?”

“There’s no reason to go there,” Akechi said flatly.

“Then, do you know where the Cleaner is?” Haru asked. He side-eyed her.

“Cleaner? No, why?” he said.

Futaba sighed. “ _Because_ , we need his letter of recommendation to get to the treasure,” she explained. “We already have four, and he’s the last one we need. That’s what we’ve been doing this whole time.”

Akechi snorted. “Well, as fun as that sounds, I assure you I don’t need recommendations to be granted an audience with Shido,” he said dryly. Ryuji scoffed.

“Of course not. I’m sure you have an all-access pass, considering you’re his bit—”

“ _Ryuji_ ,” Akira cut him off. “Let’s just relax. This is good, the sooner we secure the route the better.”

True to his word, Akechi was able to open the door to the treasure room with no trouble at all, walking straight through to the amphitheater. “Look, there’s the treasure!” Morgana pointed out, jumping up and down and pointing to the shapeless mass hovering on the stage.

“Sweet! Now we just gotta send the calling card,” Futaba said. “We can do it tomorrow, just leave it to m—”

“That won’t be necessary,” Akechi cut her off, stepping forward.

Futaba paused. “…What?” she asked, perplexed.

“A calling card won’t be necessary,” he repeated. “This can't wait until tomorrow.”

Makoto stepped toward him, growling under her breath. “So, is this the part where you betray us again?” she asked, her voice low and threatening. Akechi shrugged.

“That depends on what you consider betrayal,” he said casually. He cupped his hands over his mouth. “Come out, Shido, you son of a bitch!”

Akira flinched. This was bad. “Akechi, what are you doing?!” Ann shouted. “If he knows we’re here he’s just gonna change the location of the treasure. We have to send the calling card first!”

“Well,” a familiar voice said, suddenly materializing in front of them. “I’m afraid you won’t get that chance, Phantom Thieves.”

Akira scowled. “We… have to fight him,” he said regretfully. “We don’t have a choice now.”

“Yes, that’s true,” Akechi said casually. “Don’t worry, I’ll back you up. We’ll take down this piece of shit together just like you wanted. We can even hold hands and sing songs about friendship, afterward.”

Ryuji glowered. “I have a better idea. Why don’t we take down _both_ of you, here and now?” he said. Akechi rolled his eyes.

“Take out that aggression on the actual threat,” he said, summoning his weapon and turning toward Shido. “Come on, leader. Let’s fight.”

And Akira did, because they had no other choice. He had a horrible feeling about what was coming next, but until he got rid of the imminent threat, there was nothing he could do. So he fought.

With Akechi on their side, Shido wasn’t terribly difficult to subdue. It wasn’t long before they had him on his hands and knees in front of them in blatant defeat. “What are you going to do now?” Shido asked weakly, looking up at them with a challenge in his eyes. “Are you going to kill me?”

“No. We don’t kill people,” Akira said firmly.

Akechi stepped toward Shido, pulling out his gun and aiming it straight at the man’s head. “Speak for yourself,” he said through gritted teeth.

Ah. So that’s what this was.

“Woah, hold on a sec!” Ryuji said loudly. “You are not about to effing murder him right in front of us!” Akechi laughed dryly.

“Well, if you want to stop me, you’re going to have to kill me,” he said casually, clicking off the safety. “Because I’m sending this piece of shit to hell.” Shido just laughed tauntingly in response.

“I see. So the Phantom Thieves aren’t so just after all,” he said. Akechi scowled and pressed the barrel hard into his forehead.

“I am _not_ a Phantom Thief,” he grit out. “And I’m not your fucking tool. I’m Goro Akechi, your bastard kid, and I’m going to make sure the whole world knows it.”

Makoto cursed under her breath. “This was all so he could use us to weaken Shido before he finished him off,” she said frustratedly. “And I bet he’s going to turn around and blame it on us.”

Akechi chuckled. “Well, you’re half right,” he said. “Sorry, but I’m taking the credit for this one.”

“Akechi,” Akira said, trying to keep his voice calm as he stepped forward. “If you do this, everything you’ve done will have been completely for nothing. This isn’t going to give you any kind of closure.”

Akechi closed his eyes. “I just don’t care anymore,” he said tiredly. “We both know that I don’t get closure anyway.”

Akira’s breath caught as a wave of realization washed over him. “Akechi…” he choked out. He shook his head. It would have to wait until later. “This won’t make you feel better. You know it won’t. Just like it didn’t make you feel better when you thought you’d killed me.”

Akechi didn’t respond, but he didn’t move, either. He was hesitating. Akira just had to push a little bit further, and they could leave here together, Akechi would _survive_ …

And then Shido clutched his chest, keeled over, and disappeared into a plume of black mist.

There was several beats of silence as they looked on in shock. Akechi brought his gun up and stared at it with wide eyes, as if questioning whether it had fired without his permission. “I didn’t…” he said, before the shock was replaced by realization, and then burning fury. “That _bastard_.”

“What happened?!” Ryuji asked, stumbling as the ship lurched beneath them. “What’s _happening_?”

“He put himself into suspended animation so the palace would collapse with us in it,” Akechi explained through gritted teeth. “Come on, we have to get out of here. Fast.”

“Oh, you’re not going anywhere.”

A form dropped down in front of them from the rafters, and Akira felt his blood run cold. This entire time, he’d had a feeling in the back of his mind that they were forgetting something, and now he knew why.

“You’re all going to perish here, just as Captain Shido wishes,” Cognitive Akechi sneered, pointing his gun toward them. “I’ll make sure of it. Whatever the Captain wants, I deliver.”

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Akechi snarled. Akira couldn’t have said it better himself.

Akechi clenched his hands tightly into fists, before drawing his sword and stepping up between them and his cognitive double. “Go, get out of here. I’ll hold him back,” he said, though it seemed to take him great strain to do so. Akira wanted to scream in frustration.

“No way!” Ann said, before Akira had the chance to. “We’re not leaving you here, dumbass!”

“You have to!” Akechi snapped back. He glanced at Akira. “You know you do. Go, hurry, or we’re all going to die here.”

There was so much Akira wanted to say. _I’m sorry I fail you every time. I’m sorry you keep having to sacrifice yourself for us. I’m sorry that I’m useless and I can never change anything._ “Thank you,” was all he managed to get out. Akechi just rolled his eyes, before turning his back to them.

—

The next time Akira woke up, he immediately grabbed his phone and called the number he’d never bothered to delete from contacts. It rang for so long that he nearly jumped in surprise when someone actually picked up.

“ _I’m about to go on air, I can’t talk right now,_ ” Akechi said. Akira let out a breath in relief. “ _I might just out Shido on live TV this time for fun, you should tune in._ ”

Akira didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Akechi,” he said, a bit breathless. “This is happening to you, too.” Akechi snorted.

“ _About time you noticed,_ ” he replied pleasantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just realized i posted this chap on actual groundhog day my mind


	3. Chapter 3

“Akira!” Futaba called frantically and she burst through the door of Leblanc, nearly leaping across the counter toward him. “Did you see the news?!”

Sojiro sighed and rubbed at his eyes. “Settle down, you’re disturbing my customers,” he muttered, gesturing to the empty cafe.

Akira, of course, knew exactly what she was referring to. He’d been receiving text messages along the same lines all morning. “Yeah, I watched it,” he said, nodding toward the TV. Akechi had told him to tune in, after all.

Just a half an hour or so ago, Goro Akechi had sat calmly in front of the world on live television and not only confessed his relationship to Masayoshi Shido, but also the criminal acts he’d engaged in on the man’s behalf. “ _I’m sure the police are working on getting a permit to question me as we speak, and I’ll be happy to cooperate. But first, I think I’ll grab a cup of coffee. Thank you for having me today,_ ” he’d said pleasantly before the interview came to a close, flashing a dazzling smile at the camera.

“I just don’t get it,” Futaba said, laptop already out and in front of her on the counter. “After everything, he just sold Shido out and incriminated himself? It doesn’t make any sense!”

Akira rubbed the back of his neck. “I think he’s just… trying to take Shido down any way he can,” he pointed out. He regarded Futaba carefully. “Are you okay?”

Futaba paused, before nodding firmly. “Yeah. I’m… I’m glad I finally know who killed my mom,” she said. She looked up, her eyes shining with determination. “It was Masayoshi Shido. Period.”

Akira glanced at Sojiro, who sighed before nodding in agreement. “Right. That kid was the gun, but someone had to pull the trigger,” he muttered. “It’s a messed up situation all around. He had to have been what, fourteen?”

“Yeah. He was,” Akira said stiffly.

They were interrupted, suddenly, by the bell ringing on the door, signaling a customer entering the cafe. The three of them froze at the sight of the newcomer. “I wonder who we’re talking about in here,” Akechi said brightly. “Please, don’t let me interrupt.”

“Uh. Hey,” Akira said awkwardly, lifting his hand in a wave. Akechi chuckled and waved back.

Futaba was looking between the two of them with wide, startled eyes. Akechi seemed to take notice, a look of realization crossed his features. “Oh, right,” he said, raising a hand to his mouth and gasping loudly. “You’re alive?! I can’t believe it, I’ve been fooled. One house blend, please.”

“No, no. Absolutely not. You’re not just waltzing back in here like any other regular after everything,” Sojiro interrupted, pointing back toward the door. “And I don’t need the cops storming my restaurant when they come looking to you.”

“Wait, just give us a minute to talk upstairs. Please,” Akira said quickly. “It’s important.”

Akechi sighed. “Do we have to?” he asked flatly. “I did actually just come to have coffee. Something tells me whatever they have in prison won’t compare.”

“Yes, Akechi. We have to,” Akira said firmly.

Futaba and Morgana were both not fond of the idea of Akira and Akechi being left alone, but he somehow managed to get their hesitant compliance. At this point, the absolute last thing he was worried about was Akechi hurting him. Especially seeing as he knew firsthand that the other boy would take a bullet for him. Had, in fact, multiple times.

Akechi took a seat on the couch, crossing his legs and sipping on his newly-obtained coffee casually. “What did you want to talk about, Kurusu-kun?” he asked with a smile. Akira stared at him incredulously.

“Stop acting like this isn’t a big deal,” he said. “How long have you known?”

“Since the first time. You weren’t exactly subtle about it.”

“Then why didn’t you _say_ anything?!” Akira asked, feeling an unusual frustration bubble up inside of him. “I hate to break it to you, but there are some things that require cooperating with other people. This is definitely one of them.”

“Debatable,” Akechi replied flatly. “We’re not friends, and our goals aren’t the same. What reason would I have had to bring this up with you?”

Akira pinched the bridge of his nose. “Your goal being what, exactly?” he asked tiredly. “Because mine is to make sure you live past this day. That’s gotta be somewhere near the top of your priority list.”

Akechi seemed to consider this. “That’s inconsequential, in the long run,” he said finally. “Dying was always something I was prepared for. But death and _defeat_ are different things. It’s fine if I don’t make it, but I have to _win_.”

Honestly, Akira understood Akechi well enough at this point that that response shouldn’t have surprised him. Despite that, he couldn’t keep the incredulous expression off of his face. “ _What?_ ”

“Have you ever considered,” Akechi continued, undeterred. “ _Why_ this is happening? What needs to be accomplished in order for the loop to end? Think about it, what remains consistent each time?”

“You die,” Akira said without hesitation.

“I _lose!_ ” Akechi bit back, scowling now as he clutched his mug tightly. “It’s not supposed to be like this. This is happening so that I can have a chance to succeed, no matter how many times it takes.”

Akira frowned deeply. “So, what, you think this is me _winning_?” he asked indignantly. “If you think you dying gives me any sense of victory—”

“No, of course not. You’re too noble and perfect for that,” Akechi interrupted dryly. “I’m sure you feel so bad you have a tummy ache. Poor Goro Akechi, he wasted his entire fucking life thinking of nothing but revenge, and then died a useless, pathetic death before he could accomplish anything outside of being his father’s tool. His mother would be so proud.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room. “Are you done?” Akira finally asked, his voice steady. Akechi brought his mug up to his lips one more time and emptied the contents, before standing up.

“I am,” he said, smiling pleasantly and reverting back to his media demeanor. “As much as I’ve enjoyed this talk, I think I should be going now. Wouldn’t want to be late for my own arrest.”

Akira stood as well, reaching out to grab him, before deciding against it and letting his hand fall awkwardly to his side. “Wait. You do know what you’re doing, right?” he asked hesitantly. “Because, Akechi, you just confessed to multiple counts of murder on television. Whatever happens next isn’t going to be great for you.”

Akechi just waved him off. “You and I both know we’ll wake up tomorrow and none of it will have ever happened, anyway,” he said casually. “I told you before, I mostly just did this for fun. I’m starting to get bored of Shido’s fucking cruiser.”

“Okay, but what if it sticks this time?” Akira asked, a bit frantically. He had his own theories about what would bring the time loop to an end, but now probably wasn't the best time to discuss it. Much to his aggravation, Akechi just smiled again in response.

“Then I won,” he said simply.

Akira walked him downstairs, where Futaba and Morgana were pretending they weren’t impatiently awaiting their return. Akechi set his empty mug on the counter and made it halfway to the door before stopping abruptly. He turned around, a complicated, uncomfortable expression on his face.

He took a deep breath before bowing slightly toward Futaba and Sojiro, his eyes squeezed shut. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice cracking slightly.

No one said anything for several beats. Futaba ducked lower behind her laptop, not meeting Akechi’s eyes, and Sojiro sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Straighten up, kid,” Sojiro finally muttered. “You have other things to worry about right now. Good luck, and be careful, alright?”

Akechi lifted his head and nodded firmly, forcing himself to meet Sojiro’s eyes despite his obvious discomfort. “Thank you,” he said. He glanced at Futaba quickly, before turning toward the door once again.

“Wait,” Futaba said quietly, exhaling deeply before swivelling around on her stool. “I’m not gonna say it’s okay, because it’s not. But… you put yourself at a huge risk today to fix things, and that’s a good start.”

Akechi fiddled with his gloves awkwardly. “Yes,well… it’s the least I can do,” he muttered.

“Try to stay out of jail if you can,” Futaba said, going back to her laptop. “A pretty boy like you wouldn’t survive in there.” Akechi laughed dryly.

He met Akira’s eyes briefly, who raised an eyebrow in reply. “What, I don’t get an apology?” he asked. “You did kind of shoot me in the head.”

“You look alright to me,” Akechi said flatly, all of the nervous discomfort immediately gone from his voice. He looked around the cafe one more time, his expression a bit wistful. “Well, until next time.” And then he was gone.

Futaba and Morgana pounced on him, the latter quite literally, the moment the door closed behind Akechi. “What was that about? What happened?” Morgana mewled loudly, digging his claws into Akira’s shoulder. “Did he threaten you? Should I go claw his face off?”

“No, he… _ow_ , Morgana. He didn’t threaten me, everything’s fine,” Akira said reassuringly. “We just had something personal we needed to talk about.”

Futaba blinked at him owlishly, before her face curled up in disappointment. “Oh, god, you totally kissed didn’t you,” she said exasperatedly. Akira dropped the mug he was cleaning in loudly into the sink.

“What are you— _no,_ obviously we didn’t… Futaba, I _don’t_ —”

“I thought your bad taste peaked at Yusuke,” she said sadly, completely ignoring him. “But this is _so_ much worse.”

“It did! I mean, I don’t have bad taste! And I did _not_ kiss, or want to kiss, Akechi,” he said firmly. “Also, Yusuke is objectively gorgeous, so I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“So you admit you have a crush on Yusuke.”

“Um, like, a platonic crush. More of a strong appreciation, really,” he explained unconvincingly. “Why are we talking about this?”

“I would also like to know,” Sojiro said, rubbing his eyes under his glasses and looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. “Finish this conversation upstairs, please, I’d rather not subject my customers to teenage relationship drama.”

Akira was prepared to strongly protest, but Futaba was already pushing him up the stairs before he could. “Alright, so, obviously we have some things to discuss,” she said, flopping onto his bed and pulling out her phone. “I’m starting a group FaceTime.”

“Um, okay,” Akira consented as the dial tone rang out through his room. A few moments later, and all of his teammates were all talking loudly at once.

“ _What the eff? Like, what the _eff,__ ” Ryuji said a bit frantically. “ _He’s Shido’s _kid?!_ And the guy who’s been causing the mental shutdowns? Doesn’t this make him like… a double traitor?_”

“ _I wonder what caused him to open up like that…_ ” Ann mused. “ _Maybe he felt guilty?_ ”

“ _Unlikely. This is _Akechi_ we’re talking about,_” Makoto pointed out. “ _He probably just determined that this was the course of action that would benefit him the most in the long run._ ”

“ _So… what do we do now?_ ” Yusuke asked. The question caused everyone else to fall into silence. “ _Is there even a point in infiltrating Shido’s palace?_ ”

Akira considered this. “Honestly… no,” he concluded. “Akechi is a collaborator and a firsthand account, and I’m sure he has tons of evidence against Shido. Unless the cops are _completely_ useless—”

“Well…” Futaba attempted to cut in.

“—getting a confession out of him isn’t really necessary, anymore,” Akira continued, undeterred. “I guess for now, we just wait and see what happens.”

“ _…I don’t like this,_ ” Makoto muttered. “ _We’re letting our fate lie completely in Akechi’s hands. As far as we know, we could be falling directly into Shido’s trap._ ”

“We’re not,” Akira countered immediately, frowning. “How would that even make sense, Makoto? Regardless of our personal feelings, the truth is that Shido abandoned, used, and manipulated his son. Akechi hates him.”

“ _And you’re sure about that?_ ” Makoto replied calmly. “ _That could all just be a trick, too. We don’t really know Akechi at all, Akira. We can’t trust anything he says._ ”

Akira felt anger flare up in him immediately, and he wasn’t quite sure why. As much as he wanted to argue… she was right. He didn’t know Akechi very well, even now. He did know for a fact that his hatred for Shido was genuine, but that wasn’t something that he could easily explain without going into the fact that this was his seventh December 11. “Alright, fine. We’ll stay on guard,” he conceded. “But for now, we’re on standby.”

“Oh, and we don’t have to keep pretending Akira’s dead,” Futaba piped up. “Akechi was totally here making out with him earlier, so I think it’s safe to say the gig is up.”

The phone speaker nearly burst with exertion as five voices began yelling at once, and Akira grabbed Futaba’s phone and hung up before he could even make out what any of them were saying.

His sleep that night was… not peaceful, exactly, but a far cry from the restless, nightmare-filled slumber he’d been experiencing as of late. For one, he didn’t spend hours tossing and turning, Akechi’s violent death of the day playing in excruciating detail behind his eyelids. The usual doubts and worries were on his mind, of course, and he wasn’t quite sure what they were going to do now, but… Akechi was alive. He was going to make it to tomorrow, whether it turned out to be _actually_ tomorrow or not.

 

Honestly, he was surprised to see that his phone still read _Sunday, December 11_ the next morning. His theory had been wrong, then.

“Your theory being?” Akechi asked him later in the day, sitting across the counter from him at Leblanc despite his insistence that he could handle this alone. _Tsundere,_ Futaba would say, probably.

Akira glanced around carefully as he wiped down the coffee machine, confirming that they were the only two in the cafe. He sighed and cleared his throat. “Bona fide Monafied,” he muttered. Akechi stared at him blankly. Akira’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

_ugh, really? ur having a casual chat with ur murderer and i can’t even listen in? :/_

“What the hell,” Akechi said flatly.

“Oh, right,” Akira said, realizing some kind of explanation was probably in order. “It’s our codeword so Futaba knows when to stop tapping into her bugs. Please, Futaba.”

_fineeee. if ur body ends up in tokyo bay it’s not my problem!_

Akechi still looked perplexed. “Is she… always listening?” he asked carefully. Akira chuckled.

“Yeah. She has your phone tapped, actually,” he said. “That’s how we figured out your whole, uh, murder plot.”

Akechi’s skin had gone noticeably pale. “O-oh,” he replied.

“Anyway,” Akira continued casually. “My theory was that the loop corresponded with you dying. But since you survived yesterday, that’s obviously not the case.”

Akechi didn’t respond for several moments, tapping his fingers against his mug of coffee in deep thought. “Well, if that’s the only evidence against it,” he mused. “Then it’s still a possibility.”

Akira raised an eyebrow, tossing his rag over his shoulder and leaning his elbows against the counter. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Akechi said, not meeting Akira’s eyes. “I definitely died yesterday.”

Akira felt his stomach drop. “What?” he asked weakly, feeling a wave of unexplainable dread. Akechi shrugged, though his expression betrayed his casual demeanor.

“One of Shido’s men ambushed me at my apartment before the cops showed up,” he said, his hands shaking slightly. “I didn’t think he would be that bold, but… well. He clearly wasn’t happy with me, haha.”

Akira let out a slow, shaky breath. Last night when he’d felt at peace, when he’d felt accomplished in the fact that Akechi was alright, the other boy had been getting _murdered_ in his own _home_. His stomach roiled uncomfortably. “Akechi, I…” he said, putting his face in his hands, trying not to imagine Akechi getting ambushed in his own apartment, him fighting back with all of his strength while one of his father’s goons had his hands around his throat. “I’m so sorry.”

Akechi scoffed, still looking away. “Why are you apologizing? It’s not your fault,” he said flatly. With great effort, he lifted his eyes to meet Akira’s. “It’s never your fault. So calm down.”

Akira tried, but he couldn’t. The air didn’t seem to be entering his lungs fast enough. Akechi had been right here with him yesterday, he could’ve stopped him from leaving, he could’ve gone with him, he could’ve done _something_.

Akechi couldn’t have been more wrong. It was _always_ Akira’s fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chapter is on the shorter side :( writing long chapters is my achilles heel idk how the pros do it
> 
> i'm so glad you all seem to be enjoying this so far!! updates will ideally remain frequent bc writing this is what i do all day instead of paying attention in class


	4. Chapter 4

It wasn’t that Akira hadn’t been distressed the first few times Akechi died, but those occasions hadn’t been… unordinary, per say. 

In the very beginning, they’d more or less maintained the pattern of encountering each other in the engine room of Shido’s palace, so his dying in a similar way each time wasn’t exactly out of left field. And when Akechi grew tired of that, and his actions became a series of impulsive risks, it was to no one’s great surprise that those times didn’t end well, either.

Basically, nothing had caused Akira to consider the idea that Akechi’s death might be unavoidable. At first.

He frowned, twirling a chess piece between his fingers distractedly. “It doesn’t make sense. I’ve been keeping up with the news every day to see if anything changes, and that’s the first time that train has derailed,” he muttered, shortly after Akechi had caught him up on what had happened after he’d left Leblanc the previous night. “It’s almost like it crashed _because_ you were on it.”

Akechi shrugged, a dark expression on his face. He took out one of Akira’s white pawns with his remaining bishop. “Well, that would put an interesting spin on your theory,” he said tiredly. “So there are two conflicting higher powers: one that’s forcing us to repeat this day until I survive, and the other that’s ensuring I continue to die?”

“Maybe,” Akira said thoughtfully. Akechi snorted, and Akira gave him a sharp glance. “What, you think it’s far-fetched? We summon demons and infiltrate the cognitive world inside people's hearts.”

“Oh, no, it’s not that. Actually, I think you’re probably right,” Akechi said, leaning his chin on his palm as he easily put Akira in check. “I already know that I’m special; I have supernatural powers that were bestowed upon me by God. And I suppose you’re the same, which is why you’re experiencing this, too.”

Akira paused in his fidgeting, looking up at Goro thoughtfully. “Huh. I didn’t think of that,” he said.

“Really, you didn’t? Are you sure you’re top of your class?” Akechi asked dryly. Akira stuck his tongue out at him childishly and moved his king back to safety. “That aside, it’s not the theory I have a problem with, it just… figures, that my life is being controlled by an outside force once again. I can’t even be free in death, it seems. Your move.”

Akira felt his chest clench uncomfortably. It wasn’t like it was the first time Akechi had been vulnerable like this, but sometimes it was difficult to remember that the boy who had screamed and pleaded and laid himself bare on the floor of that engine room was the same person sitting calmly in front of him now. He reached up to play with his bangs awkwardly. “Akechi,” he said carefully, and because he had never been good with words, went with: “I think you should stay here tonight.”

Akechi rolled his eyes, putting Akira into checkmate and leaning back in his booth seat. “Are you propositioning me, leader?”

He was really starting to get sick of that joke, especially since it always inexplicably made his ears burn hot and his heartbeat pick up. “N- _no_ ,” he said, missing the stern tone he was intending and hitting flustered instead. He shook his head and brushed it off. “Unless you fall down the stairs or something, there’s not a lot of opportunities to die in Leblanc with me here the whole time. So we should give it a shot, and if we wake up tomorrow and it’s still Sunday, then… we consider our other options.”

Akechi crossed his arms, a complicated expression on his face. Akira waited patiently as the other boy considered. “No,” he finally said.

“No?” Akira repeated, stunned. “Um, look, I know we’re not best friends or anything, but this is kind of important.”

Akechi sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked exhausted, and, Akira couldn’t help but notice, much older than eighteen in that moment. “I have a feeling it’s not going to be that easy to… avoid,” he explained. “And if that’s the case, I just don’t entirely feel the need to place you in the line of fire. Understand?”

Akira blinked, thrown off once again. “So… you won’t stay here to protect _me?_ ” he asked. Akechi deadpanned.

“Oh, please, there’s no need to get emotional about it. It’s just that we don’t know what would happen if you were to die in this situation, and I’d rather not take the risk,” he said dryly. He paused, tucking his hair behind his ear and avoiding Akira’s eyes. “But it’s not only that. There’s no need for you to see me like that, if it can be avoided. If I know that it’s not on the forefront of your mind when we have these conversations, then it’s easier for me not to think about it as well.”

That startled Akira into silence. It was true, it was difficult for him to look at Akechi like this, healthy and alive, without his mind imminently traveling back to what he’d looked like lifeless and bleeding out on the ground. But if it was taking a toll on _him_ mentally… god, he couldn’t even imagine what it must be like for Akechi. He was immediately filled with shame that the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind, but Akechi was always so composed, like none of this was affecting him in the slightest. Like he could die a hundred times and still show up the next day for a casual cup of coffee.

Akechi had always been a good actor. How stupid of him to forget that.

“Okay. I understand,” Akira consented with a stiff nod. He twisted his hair around his fingers. “But… if you want, maybe we should talk about that sometime.”

Akechi looked like he’d rather swallow every piece on the chess board in front of them. “Maybe,” he said, unconvincingly.

A few cups of coffee later, and Akira walked Akechi to the door, a heavy tension hanging over them. They hesitated by the doorway for several beats. “You don’t have to go,” Akira said. Akechi just smiled.

“I want to,” he said pleasantly. “Don’t worry, I drove this time. Not to mention your theory might not even be the case. You’re not _always_ right, you know.” Akira rolled his eyes.

“Just most of the time,” he said, smiling slightly. “I think I’d like to be wrong this time, though.”

“Either way, we’ll see tomorrow,” Akechi pointed out. “Goodbye, Akira.”

“Right. Tomorrow,” Akira agreed.

 

“ _We’re reporting live from a deadly apartment fire in downtown Shibuya. There is one confirmed fatality so far, and rescue efforts are currently underway._ ”

“Woah. That looks pretty bad,” Morgana said, his tail flicking as he watched the news from his perch on the banister. “Hey… Akira? You okay?”

Akira didn’t respond, just buried his face in his arms and stayed that way until sleep dragged him under.

 

“Akechi,” Akira said, softly. “Hey, look at me. _Akechi_.”

Akechi blinked several times, before lifting his head to meet Akira’s concerned gaze. “Hm?” he asked. His eyes were almost glazed over, like he was lost in a world Akira couldn’t see.

“I was just talking to you. Did you hear what I said?” he asked. Akechi blinked again, and the haze cleared from his eyes.

“Oh, no, sorry,” he said. He sounded more or less normal, but something told Akira he was putting in considerable effort to do so. “I was lost in thought. What is it?”

“Just wondering what we should do now,” he sighed, crossing his arms on the counter in front of them and resting his chin on them. “Since I think we can consider my theory confirmed at this point.”

Akechi grimaced and looked away, not answering for several moments. Then, suddenly, he stood up. “Let’s go shopping.”

Akira raised an eyebrow. “For…?”

“I don’t know, is there anything you want in particular? It’s on me,” Akechi said. Akira stared at him anxiously. Akechi seemed to notice his concern, because he pulled a bank card out of his pocket and smiled. “Shido gave me this for emergency expenses. I’m supposed to use it sparingly, and only if I absolutely need to.”

Akira let out a startled laugh. “Oh,” he said, equally amused and perplexed. “Well, in that case, I could use a nicer TV. Maybe an Xbox.”

“Done. Anything else?”

“Haru’s birthday was last week. I still need to get her a present.”

Akechi tapped his chin in thought. “Hm, what could we possibly get that would impress the heir to a million dollar company,” he mused. Then, slowly, a smile crept over his face. It reminded Akira a bit of the one he’d worn in the interrogation room all that time ago. “Oh, I know.”

 

“Do you think she’ll like it?”

Akira laughed in disbelief, letting his fingers glide over the leather seats that probably cost more than his house back home. “Well, I know I, personally, would hate to get a luxury sports car as a present,” he said. Akechi smirked, adjusting his new, ridiculously bourgie sunglasses.

“Good thing it’s not for you then,” he said brightly. “But for safety reasons, I think we should test drive it before giving it to Okumura-san. Would you agree?”

Akira nodded firmly. “Yeah, absolutely. Wouldn’t want Haru to get hurt,” he said, grinning in anticipation as Akechi started the motor. He was of the opinion that all boys, even atypical ones like Akechi and himself, were naturally programmed to get excited about cars. It was biology.

The engine purred as they coasted through Shibuya, Akechi making the most of the ridiculous amount of horsepower and driving in a way that would never lead one to believe he worked in a police department. It was too cold in December to put the top down, so naturally, it was down anyway, the heat cranked up in an attempt to counteract the bitter wind. Akira had never felt more like an invincible teenager than he did in that moment.

“Feeling better?” he asked, tossing Akechi a grin as the wind whipped through the other boy’s long hair. He looked like such a tool, with his sunglasses and his gloves and his trench coat, and that just made Akira grin wider.

Akechi chuckled. “I am. Retail therapy is real, you know,” he chirped. “And stealing money from my piece of shit father in the process just adds to the experience. I don’t know about you, but I’m having a great time.”

“Yeah? Me too,” Akira said with a grin. He reached over to fiddle with the radio. “Music suggestions?”

“Hm. Miles Davis?”

Akira paused to stare at Akechi judgmentally. “So the whole pretentious nerd thing wasn’t just part of your detective act, I see,” he said. “I’m disappointed, honestly.”

“Haha, well, it does take a sophisticated sort of taste to understand the appeal of jazz music,” Akechi replied without missing a beat. “I wouldn’t expect you to have that kind of capacity for the arts.”

Akira barked a laugh, leaning back against the seat. “Sorry, were you trying to convince me you’re _not_ pretentious?” he asked.

“Okay, then what would you prefer?” Akechi asked with a stiff smile. Akira shrugged.

“I like all music. I mean, normal music that normal people listen to. That does not include Miles Davis,” he said. He stopped at a station and leaned back. “Pink Floyd?”

Akechi grimaced. “I find the instrumentals in rock music a bit… harsh,” he said distastefully. Akira groaned.

“God, what are you, 80?” he asked exasperatedly.

Akechi turned to look at him, his mouth half open like he was going to retort, when suddenly his expression froze.

Akira couldn’t be sure exactly what happened, because the next thing he knew Akechi was leaping across the center console toward him and pushing him down, yelling something he couldn’t make out. Then there was a loud sound that sent Akira’s heart leaping into his throat, and there was _pain_ , so intense that his vision went white and his ears burst into a sharp ringing, and then… 

And then he woke up.

 

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay?” Morgana asked nervously, hovering near his side. “You’re scaring me a little…”

Akira sighed, leaning his forehead against the cold toilet seat and squeezing his eyes shut. “Sorry. You don’t have to watch this,” he mumbled, trying to will away the nausea. “I just… don’t feel very good.” Morgana mewled, rubbing up against his leg concernedly. Akira scratched him behind the ears with a weak smile.

His phone started to ring, suddenly, and the sound was so sharp and sudden that Akira dissolved into tremors again, dry-heaving once more with a groan. Morgana hopped up on the counter to check the caller ID. “W-why is _he_ calling?!” he squeaked in alarm. Akira reached up to grab it immediately. “Wait! You can’t _answer!_ ”

“It’s okay,” Akira said, leaning back against the wall tiredly and accepting the call. “Hi.”

“ _Hey,_ ” Akechi said, his voice wavering slightly. They were silent for several moments. Akira closed his eyes and focused on the other boy’s breathing, feeling himself calm down slightly.

“Akechi—”

“ _I ran a stop sign. I wasn’t paying attention and we got hit on your side, and you…_ ” Akechi interrupted, speaking so quickly that Akira could barely pick up on what he was saying. “ _It was my fault. I was being reckless, and you got caught in the crossfire, which is exactly what I was trying to avoid and I’m so sorry I’m sorry Akira I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy and certainly not on _you_ —_”

“Oh, that doesn’t apply to me?” Akira joked half-heartedly, if only to make Akechi _calm down_. “Since when?”

Akechi exhaled very slowly. “ _Since always,_ ” he replied. Akira swallowed thickly.

“Did you… was it just me?” he asked carefully, not quite able to specify beyond that. It would make him feel better to know that he had finally succeeded in his original mission, at least. Akechi hesitated.

“ _No. I did too,_ ” he replied, and Akira winced. Of course. “ _After you, though._ ” Akira buried his face in his knees.

“This is how it’s been for you all this time?” he asked weakly, unable to even imagine feeling this sick and traumatized _every single day_ for as long as Akechi had. He didn’t even know how he was going to recover from this one time. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I keep letting it happen, god, even when I know exactly what’s coming I still can’t _change anything—_ ”

“ _That’s enough,_ ” Akechi cut him off calmly. “ _You can’t possibly still be blaming yourself. I was driving, Akira, I killed _you_._”

Akira grimaced, using all of his willpower to stop himself from throwing up again. “We’re gonna be really messed up when this is all over, aren’t we?” he asked tiredly, leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyes. Akechi chuckled.

“ _Weren’t we already?_ ” he asked in resignation. Akira couldn’t find it in him to disagree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fair warning this is going to get increasingly angsty with each chapter. mental repercussions and horrible coping methods ahead :D


	5. Chapter 5

Akira didn’t know exactly when Akechi had stopped caring about his own life completely. 

He’d been so concerned with his own objective that he’d just assumed they were in it together, until all at once, it occurred to him that he’d been the only one trying for some time. Maybe Akechi had given up as far back as the first loop. Maybe it was long before that. Akira couldn’t know for sure.

“You know,” Akira started, pulling his scarf up over his nose as they stood outside Akechi’s apartment building. Lately, if Akechi didn’t show up at Leblanc within a few hours, Akira would come to him. He thought he might be becoming a little dependent on the other boy’s company, but he figured that was bound to happen, considering their situation. It wasn’t like he could sit down with Ryuji and silently bond over the constant, distressing cycle of death that had become their lives. “It’s really important to me that you survive.”

Akechi side-eyed him, taking a slow drag of his cigarette. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, giving him one of those eyes-closed, head-tilted media smiles. Akira sighed.

“There is a way to stop this,” he continued. “We just have to find it. We have to try.”

“If you say so,” Akechi said carelessly, leaning against the side of the building. His hair was tied up and he was wearing sweatpants; such sharp contrast to his usual appearance that Akira could barely process that he was the same person. Maybe it wasn’t just his life he’d stopped caring about. Maybe it was just… everything. “Or, maybe there’s not. Maybe this is all there is for us. Just… Sunday.”

Akira sighed. “You’re being kind of cynical.”

Akechi chuckled. “Yes, well, grass is green and the sky is blue,” he said, taking another long drag. “You don’t have to stand out here with me if you’re cold. Your teeth chattering is annoying.”

Akira glowered. “If you didn’t start smoking, neither of us would be out here,” he pointed out dryly. “Those are bad for you, by the way.”

“The condition of our bodies resets at the start of each day, anyway. Tomorrow my lungs will be good as new,” Akechi replied. He glanced at Akira. “But you already knew that, I’m sure. I bet you’ve been mourning your pretty face.”

Akira scratched at his bandage. It was true, he’d woken up each morning with the exact same scattering of bruises that he’d gotten from the interrogation, and they showed no signs of fading at all. They weren’t as bad as they had been, and some of them had mostly faded to a dull yellow, but the laceration on his cheek was still bad enough that he had to keep it covered. He was sick of seeing himself like this, if he was being honest. It was hard to forget something he saw every time he looked in the mirror. “I seem to remember someone selling me out to the cops and being directly responsible for that happening,” Akira responded dryly. He paused. “You think I’m pretty?” Akechi rolled his eyes.

“I was being sardonic. If you’re looking for compliments, I’m sure one of your many female admirers would be happy to assist,” he said, and Akira almost laughed at the bitter note to his voice.

“I think we both know I’m not the one who goes looking for compliments,” he pointed out with a grin. “Or the one with the fangirls, at that.”

“I beg to differ. At least half of the girls in the Phantom Thieves are in love with you,” Akechi said matter-of-factly. “Which one are you dating? I was never quite able to pinpoint it, seeing as they were all equally enamored.”

Akira rubbed the back of his neck. “Uhh, well. It was Ann,” he admitted. “That was short lived, though. We broke it off a while ago.”

“Hm,” Akechi said, and Akira couldn’t tell if he was feigning interest or not. “You seem to be good friends, still.”

Akira smiled. “Oh, yeah, it was mutual. I love her, but we both knew we were better as friends,” he explained. He felt embarrassed, suddenly, as the situation dawned on him. He never in a million years thought he’d be having a conversation with Akechi about _girls_. But, well… as long as they were stuck in place like this, their conversations were bound to become mundane eventually. “Uh, also, she was kind of in love with her friend Shiho, and I… I don’t know. I don’t think I’m super interested in girls in general.”

 _That_ caught Akechi’s interest. His eyes widened a fraction in surprise, and he shot Akira a calculative glance. “Oh,” he said after a moment. “I… would not have guessed that about you.” Akira chuckled awkwardly, fidgeting with his bangs.

“Yeah, well. I’m not exactly an open book,” he muttered. He cleared his throat loudly. “Anyway, can we go inside now? I can’t feel my fingers.”

They spent most of the elevator ride up to the apartment in silence. Akechi seemed to be in deep thought about something, and Akira didn’t have anything to say that was important enough to interrupt him. Right before they stopped at his floor, though, Akechi spoke up. “I’m, um. Of a similar orientation,” he muttered, tugging at his ponytail distractedly. “In case you were wondering.”

Akira was quiet for a long time, his brain sputtering as he tried to come up with a response. He opened a mouth to reply, but only a choked sound came out. He cleared his throat and tried again. “You… d-don’t say,” he forced out, nearly shaking in his attempt to keep his laughter at bay. Akechi’s face turned bright red, and Akira wasn’t sure if it was in anger or embarrassment. Probably a little bit of both.

“Oh, shut up,” he said, stalking out of the elevator, and Akira couldn’t hold it back anymore. He burst into laughter as he jogged to keep up with Akechi’s brisk, irritated pace.

“Wait, wait, I’m sorry!” he said, trying and failing to calm himself down. “I’m sorry. It’s just… I know you’re gay, Akechi.”

Akechi glared at him indignantly as he entered his apartment. “You did _not_ , because I never told you so. You were just being presumptuous,” he huffed. Akira put his hands up defensively.

“Fine, fine. Then it was an assumption I was very confident in,” he said. He cracked a grin. “Maybe I’m a bit of a detective myself.”

“I hate you.”

Akira burst into another fit of laughter, Akechi’s expression only making it that much funnier. “Come on, don’t be mad,” he said, leaning against the kitchen counter. “I just wasn’t expecting you to come out to me. Ever. I was caught off guard.”

Akechi crossed his arms, frowning and not meeting his eyes. “I’ve never told anyone that before,” he said quickly, as if he couldn’t get it out fast enough.

“Never?” Akira asked, genuinely surprised. He’d figured with Akechi’s numerous female admirers that he would have had to let them down the hard way at _some_ point in the past. Akechi scoffed.

“Who was I going to tell? My parents? My close friends?” he asked dryly. Akira rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well, thanks for telling me. Really,” he said, much more serious now. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Does that mean you consider me a friend?”

Akechi hesitated for a long time. “I don’t think it’s quite that simple,” he finally decided. “But, you know, sometimes I think we were put on this earth to meet each other.”

Akira blinked, looking away and desperately trying to ignore the way his face was burning. “Do you mean that in a good way?” he asked. Akechi hummed thoughtfully.

“Who knows?” he mused.

 

He was ashamed to admit it, but sometimes, Akira wished he could stop caring too. He wished he didn’t feel so miserably guilty every single time he woke up with the knowledge that Akechi had died yet again. He wished his every waking thought wasn’t filled with obsessive desperation to change the inevitable.

It wasn’t just about Akechi, either. There has been several times, now, that Akira had gotten caught up in it, just like he had in the car crash, and… he wasn’t handling it well, to say the least. It was impossible for him to come to grips with, no matter how hard he tried. It just felt so _unnatural_ , waking up gasping and shaking after experiencing his own death. It was sickening in ways he couldn’t even put into words.

In his weaker moments, he sometimes wished he just wouldn’t wake up at all. These thoughts were always brief, and he hated himself for them afterward, but they did cross his mind from time to time. After all, the dying part was easy. It was coming to terms with it afterward that was hard.

It didn’t matter how much he thought about it, though, because it was impossible. He couldn’t make that choice even if he wanted to. So sometimes he would bite down on his knuckles until they bled, or press on his bruises until his eyes watered, because _that_ was something he had control of. That pain was a choice he was able to make.

He never told Akechi any of this, though. The other boy had it so much worse, and he seemed to be doing okay for the most part. He’d always been stronger than Akira was.

 

He woke up blearily on Sunday number twenty or one hundred or one thousand, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he reached for his phone. There was the _we going in today?_ text from Futaba, as usual, which he’d started to just ignore completely. He hadn’t opted to go into the Metaverse for some time now. There was no point, other than giving Akechi more creative ways to die.

This time, though, he felt compelled to answer. He missed his friends. He’d been so preoccupied with himself and Akechi that he didn’t even notice how long it had been since he’d seen them, other than Futaba, who he occasionally saw if he stuck around Leblanc long enough for her to show up.

 _Not today,_ he replied, before opening up the group chat. _Hey, lets go to Dome Town._

“ _No fucking way,_ ” Akechi said over the phone when Akira made a similar statement to him moments later. “ _I’m not going to an amusement park with you and your annoying friends. I’d rather die._ ”

There was a joke to be made there, but Akira ignored it in favor of preserving his own good mood. “Yes you are. You don’t have anything better to do,” he said dryly. Akechi had no response to that.

He didn’t really have a plan for convincing everyone that Akechi was no longer evil or murderous or affiliated with Shido in any way. There was no possible way to explain how so much had changed within a twenty-four hour period, without going into something that he didn’t have the will or energy to go into. So he figured he’d play it by ear.

They took it about as well as he would’ve guessed.

“You invited _who?!_ ” Futaba screeched when he broke the news at the ticket gate. “What the hell? What the _hell?_ We kind of had this whole plan where he was supposed to think you were dead, remember?”

“Akira, I don’t know what you’re planning, but whatever it is it’s a _bad plan_ ,” Makoto hissed, her eyes burning with disapproval. “You should have discussed this with us first.”

Akira sighed. “Look, I… I don’t really know how to explain, but you’re just gonna have to trust me,” he insisted. “He’s not dangerous, and he’s not working for Shido.”

“Uh, _yeah he is!_ ” Ryuji argued loudly. “Remember when he shot you in the effing face? Remember that?!”

“Guys, come on,” Ann said hesitantly. “I admit this is a little weird, but Akira would never do anything to put us at risk. Right?”

Yusuke nodded. “I agree. I trust your judgement, leader, no matter how strange and unwise that judgement may be,” he said. Akira rubbed the back of his neck.

“Thanks,” he said. He turned to the others. “Please just put it aside. Just for today. I’ll… explain everything tomorrow.”

Haru sighed, before nodding. “Alright, Akira,” she spoke up. “If you insist that it’s okay, then I believe you.” Her consent seemed to be enough to get the other three on board as well, albeit hesitantly.

Akechi arrived not long after, and Akira was pleasantly surprised to see that he looked much more like himself than he had in quite some time. He had actually bothered to do his hair, and he was wearing his old trusty khakis-and-sweater-vest combo. Akira couldn’t help but grin at the sight.

“What’s up, Agent 47?” Futaba asked dryly as he walked up. Akechi tucked his hair behind his ear, looking notably nervous as he stopped at Akira’s side.

“Hello,” he responded awkwardly. There was a long silence.

“Well, let’s go! We’re here to have fun!” Ann said, breaking through the tension. Bless her. “To the crepe stand!”

“What?! You’re not supposed to eat _before_ going on rides, dumbass,” Ryuji protested. “That’s how you end up pukin’ everywhere.”

“Worry about yourself,” Ann snapped back sticking her tongue out at him childishly. She turned to Akechi. “You like sweets, right?”

Akechi flushed dark red, most likely remembering why it was Ann had that information in the first place. “I do,” he said, his voice cracking. She grinned and grabbed him by the arm, dragging him toward the food stands. Akira followed along, chuckling at Akechi’s flustered expression.

It wasn’t so bad, all things considered. Makoto and Ryuji made no effort to talk to Akechi at all, which was probably for the best, and Akechi avoided Haru and Futaba like the plague, but Ann and Yusuke both seemed to have no problem including him. And even despite Akechi’s best efforts, Futaba didn’t take kindly to being ignored, so she eventually forced her way in as well.

“You know, I’m kinda pissed that you tried to shoot my brother-figure in the face, Pretty Boy,” Futaba chirped, skipping alongside Akechi. “But no worries, you can make it up to me. You just gotta ride _that_.”

Futaba must have sensed some kind of specific weakness in him, because Akechi’s face paled immediately as his eyes followed the point of her finger. “Haha, no,” he said with a smile. “I’m perfectly comfortable with you being angry at me forever.”

Akira smirked. “Really? You’re scared of roller coasters?” he teased. Akechi glared at him.

“Did I say that?” he bit back. “I just have no desire whatsoever to get on that. It doesn’t look like fun, and waiting in line for it would would be a waste of my time and energy.”

“Dude. You’re _so_ scared,” Futaba sniggered. “I’m totally posting about this on your fan site.”

“I don’t care what you think,” Akechi said in a tone that suggested he cared a lot. “I’m not talking about this anymore.”

“It’s kinda funny,” Akira said once Futaba got bored of teasing Akechi and slipped away to hassle Yusuke. “You’ve died a hundred times, but you’re scared of roller coasters.”

Akechi’s eyebrow twitched. “You know what? Fine. If you’re going to continue to be obnoxious, I’ll ride the fucking thing,” he hissed irritably. “And it’s only been 53 times.”

He really didn’t know why it surprised him that Akechi had kept count. “Right. Anyway, it’ll be fun. Don’t worry, I’ll hold your hand if you get scared,” he said with a grin. Akechi smiled back.

“If you do, I’ll dislocate your wrist,” he said pleasantly.

Akechi was restless the entire way through the line. He wouldn’t stop tapping his foot and fidgeting with his hair, and he was full of so much nervous energy it was making _Akira_ anxious. “Akechi, I was just messing with you. You don’t have to do this if you really don’t want to,” he said. Akechi rolled his eyes.

“Just shut up,” he said.

“It’s soooo high,” Ann squeaked at they approached the front, shielding her eyes as she looked up at the first hill. “Not gonna lie, I’m pretty nervous.”

Futaba grinned. “See, Crow? It’s not just you. You don’t have to be embarrassed,” she said cheekily.

“Oh, you’re scared too?” Ann said in relief. “Wanna sit with me? It’ll make me feel better if I know I’m not the only one freaking out.”

Akechi grimaced. “Actually, I’m not exactly…” he muttered, before sighing in resignation. “Alright.”

Akira wasn’t really sure why he felt of twinge of disappointment as Akechi got into the cab beside Ann instead of him. But then Ryuji said “you better keep your hands up the whole time, man!” excitedly from beside him, and he felt better immediately. He’d missed Ryuji a lot. He’d missed all of them.

When they got off, Akechi’s face was a sickly green. “That was fun!” Ann said brightly. She shook her hand. “Um, I think Akechi might have cut off the circulation to my fingers, though.”

It was almost dusk when they finally decided to leave, chattering happily as they made their way to the exit gates. Akira felt better than he had in what seemed like an eternity. He glanced over the see Akechi deep in conversation with Yusuke, and he felt a small smile spread over his face.

“I never disliked them,” Akechi admitted as they walked to the train station together after saying goodbye the everyone else. “Yes, I mostly just saw them as a means to an end when I was part of the Phantom Thieves, but… it wasn’t as if I didn’t enjoy their company.”

Akira smiled softly. “I know,” he said. He sighed. “It’s a shame we all couldn’t have met under different circumstances.”

“It is,” Akechi agreed wistfully. “And… it’s a shame that they’ll wake up tomorrow and forget all of this. I’ll just be their enemy again.”

Akira was quiet for several beats. “I’ll remember,” he finally said. Akechi turned to look at him, his expression almost fond, before he quickly turned away again.

“Yes,” he replied. “I suppose that’s true.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you thought the roller coaster was gonna derail didn’t you


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i updated the tags be careful kiddos

Akechi always died in the late afternoon. There had been a few exceptions, but for the most part, they had a majority of the day before the inevitable happened. Akira wasn’t sure why, but he hadn’t really thought much of it before.

That is, until things changed.

“ _The sole victim of the deadly gas station explosion in Shibuya this morning has been identified as high school student Goro Akechi, well-known for his role as a rookie detective for the Tokyo police—_ ”

Akira turned off the TV quickly, physically restraining himself from throwing the remote through it. Morgana jumped up on the counter and mewled in concern. “I… can’t believe it,” the cat said. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything,” Akira said sharply. His phone buzzed with a message from Ann, and he glanced at it distractedly.

_i saw the news… are you okay?_

He turned his phone off. “Sojiro, can I take the rest of the day off?” he asked shakily. “Please.”

Sojiro glanced warily between Akira and the TV, before sighing and rubbing the back of his neck. “Sure, kid,” he said. “Don’t get into any trouble.”

He wandered around aimlessly for a while, unsure of what to do with himself. It was only mid-morning, and Akechi was dead. He had to live through a whole day in a world where Akechi was already gone. How long had it been since he’d gone that long without talking to the other boy? Even now, his hand itched to take out his phone and call him, just to hear his voice, even if they didn’t talk about anything at all. But he couldn’t. Akechi was dead.

And Akira was alone.

“Kurusu-kun?” a voice called, stopping him in his tracks. He’d somehow ended up in Shinjuku in his mindless wandering, but he could barely even remember getting on the subway. He glanced over to see Chihaya looking at him in concern. “Are you alright? You look rather distressed.”

Akira rubbed the back of his neck. “Hey, Chihaya. I’m… I’ll be fine,” he muttered. She hummed in reply, clearly unconvinced.

“Would you like a reading? It might help,” she suggested. Akira hesitated, before sighing and taking a seat across from her.

“Sure,” he complied. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do.

He watched as she flipped his cards, decidedly unsurprised when her expression turned grim. With the way things were going, it wasn’t like he was expecting any good news. “Oh my… this is concerning,” she said hesitantly. “It seems there’s death in your future, either your own or someone close to you… and, you’ve been forced into a situation you can’t control? Or rather, you’re being manipulated into that situation. You’re defying fate, it seems, and there’s a disbalance as a result.”

Akira frowned. Defying fate? He was pretty sure he was falling right into fate’s hands. “Well, do me a favor and ask whoever’s manipulating me what the hell they want,” he said, scrubbing his hands over his face tiredly. Chihaya smiled at him sadly.

“I am afraid that’s beyond my capabilities,” she said. “Please be careful, Kurusu-kun, this reading is… disturbing. I’m available if you ever need to talk, just as a friend.”

Akira forced a smile. There was only one person he could talk to about this, and he was… “Thank you, Chihaya. I appreciate it,” he said. “It was good to see you. It’s been a while.”

Chihaya tilted her head curiously. “Didn’t we just see each other yesterday?” she asked. Akira laughed dryly.

“Right,” he muttered. “I guess we did.”

From there he went to Crossroads, where he unsuccessfully tried to convince Lala to sell him alcohol, unsuccessfully tried to convince Ohaya to _buy_ him alcohol, and then ended up working a shift just to take his mind off of things.

“Girl problems?” Lala asked gently as she mixed a drink, watching him carefully out of the corner of her eye. Akira didn’t know if the request for alcohol had tipped her off or, like Chihaya, she had just seen it on his face.

“Nah,” he said immediately, mindlessly wiping down the same spot on the counter until he could see his reflection in it. Lala hummed.

“ _Boy_ problems?” she tried again. Akira paused, considering that one for longer.

“Not… really,” he decided. “Just problems in general.”

Lala nodded. “Don’t try to carry too much, kid,” she said. “Sometimes it seems like you’ve got the weight of the world on those skinny shoulders.”

Akira smiled bitterly and shook his head. “No, I… it isn’t that bad. I’m overreacting,” he said, going back to wiping down the bar. “There are people who have it worse.”

It was already dusk by the time Akira got off work. He turned on his phone to see that his notifications were flooded with messages from his friends, all about the same thing. He locked it and shoved it back into his pocket without looking at any of them.

At least it was late enough now that he could just go home and force himself to go to sleep. Tomorrow, everything would be better.

He chuckled to himself. What did he consider _better_ , anyway? Akechi would still die horrifically, just a little later, so that was an improvement? And then the next day would be the same thing, and again and again and _again_ , until… when? It could be forever.

It could be _forever_.

His thoughts were interrupted, suddenly, by a sharp sound breaking through the busy chatter of the Shinjuku streets. It was familiar, but he didn’t know why until he traced the noise into an alleyway off the main road.

It was a woman yelling for help, trying to resist a man that had her by the wrists.

The deja vu of the situation made Akira dizzy. The last time he’d been here, the decision he’d made had changed his life. If he hadn’t tried to stop Shido back then, he never would’ve come to Tokyo. He never would’ve awakened his Persona or become a Phantom Thief. He never would’ve met Akechi, or been stuck on this Sunday with no end in sight. He’d never regretted it before, but now… now he couldn’t help but think it might’ve been better for everyone if he’d just walked away.

Maybe he should walk away now.

“Get your hands off of her,” he snapped, stepping forward, because despite everything he still knew who he was. He was still Akira Kurusu, and Akira Kurusu helped people who needed him.

His intrusion was enough to distract the man, giving the woman the opportunity to pull herself free and run. The man made to chase her, but Akira grabbed his collar before he could. “Mind your own fuckin’ business, kid!” the man slurred, pushing him away harshly. Akira grit his teeth, shoving him back.

“Trust me, I wish pieces of shit like you didn’t exist so that I could,” he said.

He was expecting the punch. What he wasn’t expecting, though, was the rush of adrenaline that took his breath away as the pain spread through his face. He spit blood from where his teeth had cut his lip open, reaching up to wipe it away in a daze.

It had felt… _good_. The pain was grounding, and he felt a little bit of the weight on his shoulders lift as his face throbbed. He grinned.

He threw a punch back, reveling in the pain that blossomed across his knuckles as they connected with the man’s jaw. The fight escalated, and he was losing, badly, but he didn’t care. For the first time all day, maybe for the first time in a long time now, he felt… okay.

He felt _alive_.

 

“Is there a reason why you ambushed me this early in the morning?” Akechi asked dryly, collapsing onto his couch. He was wearing the t-shirt and sweatpants he’d presumably fallen asleep in, his hair thrown up into a messy ponytail as he nursed the to-go cup of coffee Akira had brought for him.

“What happened yesterday?” Akira asked, not bothering to beat around the bush. He sat on the coffee table directly across from Akechi. “It‘s never been like that before. It happened too early.”

Akechi almost looked impressed. “Oh, you noticed?” he asked cheerfully. “I guess I do tend to underestimate your intelligence on occasion. Yes, it was earlier than usual, because I did it on purpose.”

Akira felt several emotions surge through him at once, from confusion to alarm and finally settling at _fury_. “You… what?” he asked in disbelief. “Are you kidding me?” Akechi shrugged.

“I was testing a theory,” he explained.

“You _blew up a gas station?_ ”

“I had to be in a situation where there would, under normal circumstances, be casualties other than myself,” Akechi continued, unphased. “But since I obviously couldn’t be around to collect the results, I was depending on you. You saw it on the news, right? Did anyone else die?”

Akira gaped at him. “Wait, wait. So you not only killed yourself, but also intentionally endangered the lives of other people?” he asked, his voice rising far above its usual decibel. Akechi rolled his eyes.

“There you go, getting emotional again. You’re preaching to someone who you already know has serially killed people in the past,” he said flatly. “And we’re both perfectly aware that nothing we do has any lasting effect, anyway. Now answer my question.”

Akira sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. _The sole victim of the deadly gas station explosion in Shibuya this morning has been identified as high school student Goro Akechi…_ “You… were the only one who died,” he confirmed tightly. Akechi looked delighted.

“I see. As I thought,” he said, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “And do you happen to remember any of the times in the past, such as the apartment fire or the train crash?”

“I…” Akira squeezed his eyes shut, trying to think back. Those seemed like lifetimes ago, and he’d only been concerned with Akechi at the time. “I don’t remember.”

“That’s alright. I think this is enough to confirm,” Akechi said with a satisfied nod.

“Confirm what?” Akira snapped. “What has this accomplished, exactly?”

Akechi paused, as if considering the question. “Well, mainly,” he said. “I was trying to determine how deep your involvement goes.”

Akira blinked, caught off guard. “What?” he asked blankly. “What does it have to do with me?”

“As far as either of us is aware, no one has been caught in the crossfire as a result of my death, with one exception. Isn’t that interesting? It makes me wonder…” he trailed off, eyeing Akira contemplatively. “Well, it doesn’t matter. I guess there’s no way to know for sure, anyway.”

Akira sighed, standing up and pacing distractedly. Akechi followed, moving to lean against the counter. “You should’ve talked to me about it first,” Akira said quietly. Akechi tilted his head curiously.

“Why are you so upset?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “As of the moment we woke up this morning, none of it happened anyway.” Akira grimaced.

“It happened for _me_ , okay? I remember it, so it happened,” he countered. “And it sucked.”

Akechi blinked in confusion. Akira groaned frustratedly and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him close and wrapping his arms around him before he had a chance to protest. Akechi made a strange gurgling sound, before spluttering violently in an attempt to put words together. “W-wh-what are you doing?!” Akechi stuttered, his voice high and distressed.

“It’s called a hug. Ever been hugged before?” Akira muttered, and then quickly continued, suddenly terrified of the answer to that question. “Relax. Just let it happen.”

Akechi was trembling, and Akira was becoming a little concerned by the extremity of his reaction. If it was possible to die of affection deprivation, Akira suspected Akechi would’ve been long gone before the time loop even began. “I know w-what a hug is, but _why_ ,” Akechi hissed.

Akira paused, closing his eyes and exhaling deeply. “I missed you,” he mumbled, muffling his voice into Akechi’s shoulder. Akechi, if possible, stiffened even more.

“It was just one day,” he said, his voice strained from embarrassment. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Just tell me if you’re gonna do something like that again, okay?” he said seriously. Akechi sighed.

“I… okay. I didn’t realize, um. It would bother you,” he said awkwardly. “I’m sorry.”

Akira refused to release his hold, so Akechi eventually gave in and lifted his arms to hesitantly wrap around Akira’s waist. He let out a long, shaky breath. “Thanks,” Akira said, pulling Akechi tighter briefly before finally letting go. Akechi seemed reluctant to let him pull away, his face bright red and his expression more flustered than Akira had ever seen it. Akira grinned. “So, anything scheduled for today?”

Akechi took a moment to collect himself. “No, nothing in particular,” he said. “Unless you’re interested in keying Shido’s car.” Akira chuckled. 

“How about we just stay in and watch a movie?” he suggested. Akechi shrugged.

“Alright. But I get to pick.”

About halfway through Star Wars, Akechi shifted in his seat and pressed himself against Akira’s side, almost laying his head against his shoulder. Akira nearly jumped in surprise. He glanced down at him, but the other boy was pointedly staring at the TV and avoiding his eyes.

It might have been an accident when Akira reached down at some point and let their fingers overlap, but regardless, neither of them bothered to pull away.

 

“You should go home,” Akechi said quietly as they stood outside, watching the smoke from Akechi’s cigarette curl in the cool December air. “It’s getting late. It’ll be… time, soon.”

Akira felt his stomach sink. “Right,” he said. He sighed, staring out at the bright sunset until his eyes burned. “Hey, can I have one of those?”

Akechi stared at him in confusion. “A… cigarette?” he asked. Akira nodded, and Akechi only hesitated briefly before shrugging and holding the pack out. Akira grabbed a stick and held his hand out for the lighter, watching the flame swallow the end of the paper and burn as orange as the sky. “Those are bad for you, you know.”

Akira chuckled. “I’ve heard,” he said, watching Akechi put his own out against the side of the building. “Well… I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

Akechi stared at him silently for several moments, before nodding and tucking a stray hair behind his ear. “You will,” he assured. “Goodnight, Akira.”

Akira waited until the door closed behind Akechi to bring the cigarette to his lips for the first time. The moment it hit the back of his throat, he began coughing violently, his eyes watering from the burn. He’d tried cigarettes once or twice in the past, and the results had always been pretty much the same. He didn’t see the appeal.

He pulled up his jacket sleeve, exposing his wrist to the chilly air. He took a deep breath, pausing with the lit end of the cigarette held centimeters above his skin, before gritting his teeth and pushing down.

He held it until he couldn’t anymore, cursing under his breath and letting the cigarette fall to the ground. He stared at the raw burn for several minutes, breathing heavily and letting the wind cool the fresh wound.

Once he felt his heart rate calm and the adrenaline fade, he pulled down his sleeve and shoved his hands in his pockets. He crushed the cigarette under his foot as he walked past, humming under his breath as he headed home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooo those bad coping methods i mentioned


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING there is a very brief very unexplicit mention of a high schooler sleeping with an adult in this chapter. it’s explained away as a technicality, but still, proceed with caution.

“Are you sure you want me to do this?” Akira asked hesitantly, threading his fingers through Akechi’s long hair. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Akechi lifted one shoulder casually. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Even if you fuck up completely, it’ll be back to normal by tomorrow.”

“Then what’s the point?” Akira asked. Akechi met his eyes in the full-length mirror Akira had dug out of the attic clutter, a complicated expression on his face.

He flashed his signature media smile. “Aren’t you supposed to act on impulses in situations like these?” he said simply. Akira had a feeling there was more to it than that, but he didn’t push the subject.

Akira took a deep breath, taking one of Akechi’s soft locks delicately in his hand. “Is this your natural color?” he asked, trying to distract himself from his nerves. He didn’t even know _why_ he was so nervous; like Akechi said, none of it would matter tomorrow anyway. It wasn’t even _his_ hair he would be potentially ruining.

“Yes,” Akechi responded, boredly. “I asked my mother about it, once. She doesn’t have any sort of European ancestry as far as she was aware, so I assume it's from Shido’s side.”

Akechi’s expression had darkened slightly at the statement, and Akira clenched his jaw as he cut off the first lock of hair and watched it flutter to the floor. “Then that’s the only thing you got from him,” he said. Akechi laughed once.

“Don’t forget the self-centeredness and blatant disregard for the lives of others,” he said cheerfully, brushing away stray hairs as they fell to his cheeks. Akira frowned slightly.

“Well, at least you didn’t inherit the male-pattern baldness,” he said, pulling Akechi’s bangs back to reveal his lack of receding hairline. He grinned. “Though I guess there’s still time.”

Akechi’s face immediately drained of color. “Don’t… don’t even joke about that,” he said desperately, and Akira couldn’t help but burst into laughter at his expense.

It probably took much longer than necessary for Akira to trim all of Akechi’s hair down to an even length, but he made sure to work carefully and take his time with the process. When he was done, it was all the same length as the short layers around his face. Not drastically different from what it had been, but still, the change was startling. Akechi looked much older than before, and Akira wasn’t sure if it was from the hair or the tired expression on his face. Probably a bit of both. “What do you think?” he asked anxiously, trying to gauge Akechi’s expression.

Akechi twirled a lock around his finger thoughtfully. “That will do,” he finally decided. He sounded content; neither pleased nor displeased. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Akira said, staring at him in the mirror for a long time. “It’s gonna take some getting used to.”

Akechi was quiet for a while, running a gloved hand through his hair thoughtfully. “I just… want to see someone different when I look in the mirror,” he confessed finally, not meeting Akira’s gaze. He chuckled. “Outward appearance is much easier to change, I suppose.”

Akira rubbed the back of his neck, moving to sit on the couch. “Hey, uh, I don’t know how much you want to hear this from me,” he started hesitantly. “But what you said before isn’t true. You’re nothing like Shido. He… people like him, they’ll go to their graves justifying their actions and using people for their own gain. I mean, we have to physically _go into his heart_ and change his entire perception of himself and the world to get him to express even a hint of remorse. But you… the fact that you were even able to say what you just said already makes you different from him. And you did that all on your own.”

Akechi stared at him with wide eyes, before shaking off his startled expression and laughing bitterly. “Ever the saint,” he muttered under his breath. He sighed, before smiling at Akira fondly. “You’re right, it doesn’t mean much coming from you, with your ridiculous heart of gold and unnerving ability to forgive people who by no means deserve it. But… thank you for saying so, regardless.”

“I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true,” Akira said, pulling out his phone. “Now let’s go, Futaba’s waiting for us downstairs.”

Akechi blinked in confusion, allowing Akira to pull him to his feet. “Us?” he asked blankly. Akira nodded.

“Oh, yeah, I told her I’d take her to Akihabara,” he explained offhandedly. “And you’re coming.” Akechi grimaced.

“Yes, because that went so well the last time,” he muttered, his expression darkening as he undoubtedly recalled his traumatic roller coaster encounter. “Well, I suppose nothing in Akihabara could possibly be worse.”

 

“Welcome home, masters and mistress! I’m Clara, your clumsy maid! Nya~”

The expression on Akechi’s face had Akira hiding behind his menu to conceal his laughter. “Hello, Clara-chan! Nya~” Futaba replied enthusiastically, mimicking the waitress’s hand gesture. “I’ll have the Sincere Omelette, please.”

“As you wish, mistress,” Clara replied with a nod. She turned to Akechi, batting her eyelashes at him flirtatiously. “And what can I do for you, master?”

Akechi’s face was alarmingly purple, so Akira took the liberty of answering for him. “He’ll have the uh, Love★Pancake. I’ll just take a coffee.”

“Yes, sir! Coming right up~!” she said cheerfully, before skipping off to fill their order. Futaba cackled and turned to Akechi.

“Aww, what’s wrong? She not your type?” she taunted. She eyed Akira with a shit-eating grin. “Guess tall dark and handsome is probably more your thing.”

Akechi gave her a long, unamused look. “Akira is shorter than me,” he pointed out flatly, not humoring her for a second. Akira choked on his water.

“Whatever. Anyway, what happened to your flower-boy hair?” she asked, observing him calculatively. “You _really_ look like Light Yagami now.”

“Um,” Akechi replied.

“I cut it this morning,” Akira explained. He grinned. “What do you think? I think I did a good job.”

Futaba’s eyebrows disappeared under her bangs. “Woahhh, you trusted _Akira_ to cut your hair?” she asked in disbelief. “Man, you’ve got it bad.”

Akira sighed. “Why do you keep… we’re _not_ …” he muttered, trying to come up with the right words. It was going to be embarrassing regardless with Akechi sitting right next to him, but he needed to get some sort of explanation as to why Futaba was so fixated on this nonexistent idea. In _every timeline_. “Whatever you think is going on with us, it isn’t.”

Futaba rolled her eyes. “Oookay,” she said dryly. “That’s why you guys flirted constantly before the whole interrogation room thing. And why you’re still hanging out and making excuses for him even though he, y’know, tried to kill you. Totally nothing going on here.”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” Akechi said, his eye twitching even as he smiled pleasantly. “So maybe it’s better than you don’t comment on things you know nothing about.”

Futaba put an affronted hand to her chest. “ _Excuse_ me, do you have any idea how many romance animes I’ve watched?” she said indignantly.

Before Akechi had the opportunity to respond exasperatedly, the waitress-maid came back with their orders. Akechi nearly popped a blood vessel when she piled a ridiculous amount of whipped cream on his pancakes, giggling and begging for his forgiveness in the aftermath. “How did she not realize while she was doing it,” he said between clenched teeth after she ran off to fetch them more napkins. Akira snorted into his coffee.

“Man, I love this place,” Futaba said brightly, digging into her perfect omelette. “Think I could get a job here? I’d make a cute maid, right? Nya~”

Akechi glowered. “Please, have same self-respect,” he said flatly. Futaba stuck her tongue out at him.

“For your information, the girls who work here have to have amazing customer service _and_ acting talent, on top of being cute!” she argued defensively. “Sorry we can’t all have _respectable_ careers like you, Mr. Assassin.”

Akechi didn’t seem to be able to come up with a response to that.

 

Later, as they made their way to the electronics store at Futaba’s insistence, Akira caught a familiar blue light out of the corner of his eye. It had been so long since he’d been there, or interacted with the Metaverse in any way, that he’d almost forgotten it existed entirely. “Hey, Futaba,” he said. “Do you mind going on without us? We’ll catch up in a little bit, I just need to talk to Akechi about something.”

Not too long ago he wouldn’t have even suggested letting her be alone in a crowded place like this, but she’d made an amazing amount of improvement over the past several months. She didn’t need him anymore. “Yeah, yeah, spare me the details,” she said with an exaggerated wink. “I’ll be in the video games section!”

“What’s wrong?” Akechi asked blankly as Akira pulled him toward where Caroline was perched on the barred door.

“Just curious about something,” he replied simply. “Hey, Caroline.”

“Don’t address me like we’re friends, _inmate_ ,” she seethed, jumping down to land in front of him. “It’s about time you showed up. You _better_ not be slacking on your rehabilitation!”

Akira rubbed the back of his neck. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said. “Actually, I just wanted to ask you a few questions.”

“Akira, who the _hell_ are you talking to,” Akechi hissed, his expression a perfect mix between perplexed and alarmed. Well, that answered one of them.

Caroline seemed to notice Akechi for the first time, her one visible eye widening and then immediately narrowing distastefully. “Oh, it’s the _other_ one,” she said bitterly. “Don’t tell me he’s crawling back for another chance. It’s too late!”

“Wait, wait, so you know him, but he can’t see you?” he asked, trying to put together the information he was missing. “I thought he might have access to the Velvet Room, too, since he has multiple Personas.”

That seemed to catch Akechi’s attention. “Oh, that place,” he said in realization. “So I suppose you’re talking to that man with the long nose. Or one of the little twin girls, perhaps.”

“Who are you calling a little girl?!” Caroline snapped. Akechi didn’t react, seeing as he couldn’t hear her. She huffed. “He was _offered_ a contract just like you, but he decided he was too good for it and that he could do everything on his own. Ungrateful jackass.”

“Yes, I remember now,” Akechi continued, unphased. “I was offered a contract or something of the sort. But I declined, seeing as I already possessed my Persona power and had the free reign to do with it as I wished. I’d almost forgotten about that.”

Caroline flipped him off. “Wouldn’t have been any use to you anyway, since you don’t have any friends to strengthen your Arcanas,” she leered at Akechi bluntly. Akira chuckled awkwardly, rubbing them back of his neck.

“Uh, is there any way you can appear to him just for the sake of this conversation?” he asked. “This is weird.”

Caroline stuck her nose up and let out a _hmph_. “No way. He rejected our assistance, so now he has to live with the consequences of his actions,” she said. Akira sighed. He would’ve been better off going to Mementos and having this conversation with Justine instead.

“Fine. Just one more question, then,” he said, taking a deep breath. This could change everything. “Do you know about what’s happening right now?”

Caroline raised an eyebrow at him speculatively. “Huh? What do you mean?” she asked. “Is something unusual happening? You better not have messed up your rehabilitation!”

Akira exhaled slowly. “No, nevermind. Thanks,” he said, his mind racing. “I’ll come back soon, I need to figure some things out.”

“Wh— you just wasted my time like that and you’re not even going to let me imprison you?” she asked, stomping her foot childishly. “You have some _nerve,_ inmate!”

“What was that about?” Akechi asked as they walked back through the main streets of Akihabara toward where Futaba was waiting. Akira shrugged.

“I was just thinking that if all of this did correspond with the two of us having multiple Personas, the Velvet Room would have something to do with it. It’s the source of our powers… I think,” he said unconvincingly. He still wasn’t really sure how all of this worked, and he’d given up on trying to get answers out of Igor a long time ago. “But if that was the case, Caroline would probably know about the loop.”

“Hm. Well, is it possible that she was lying?” Akechi asked thoughtfully. Akira shrugged again.

“It’s possible, yeah,” he said tiredly. He ran a hand through his hair. “Either way, we didn’t really make any progress. Worth a shot I guess.” Akechi hummed.

“I guess,” he agreed. He came to a stop as they approached the front of the electronics store. “This is where we let off today, then. Despite your insistence that I, what was it? ‘Have nothing better to do?’ I actually do have other matters that require my attention.”

Akira blinked in surprise. “Oh, um,” he said, wracking his brain for what else Akechi could possibly need to accomplish on an endless day. “Okay. I’ll see you, then.”

It probably wasn’t any of his business. He wasn’t entitled to every detail of Akechi’s life, even in a situation like this. It wasn’t like Akechi was aware of everything that _he_ did.

He tugged his sleeves further down over his wrists at the thought.

“Yes, you will,” Akechi replied with a tight smile, attempting to tuck his hair behind his ear only for the shortened lock to fall right back into place. He stood there for several moments, a conflicted expression on his face, before he turned and headed back toward the train station.

Akira watched him go, unable to explain the sinking feeling in his stomach.

 

He should’ve noticed sooner.

Thinking back, there were signs that Akira had ignored. Like Akechi disappearing and being unreachable by phone at certain times of day, or the slight limp Akira sometimes noticed in his gait, or the dark marks Akira sometimes caught a glimpse of beneath his collar. He could’ve asked. He _should’ve_ asked, but he didn’t. And deep down, he knew why.

If he pried into something like that, then that would put Akechi at liberty to pry into things he may have noticed about _Akira_ , and… Akira wasn’t ready to have that conversation. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

So when Akira _did_ find out, it was a coincidence. 

He was in Shinjuku, thinking about stopping to pick up a shift at Lala’s for something to do, since she was always short-handed during the day. At least, that’s what he’d told himself. Because if he acknowledged the fact that he was, in actuality, hoping to come across an opportunity to get the shit beaten out of him, that would be acknowledging what an absolute basket case he’d become. He really wasn’t looking forward to the day that realization fully caught up to him.

“I suggest, for your own sake, that you remove your hand from me immediately,” a calm, unsettlingly familiar voice reached Akira’s ears from nearby as he made his way through the seedy backstreets. He felt his blood run cold.

He quickly turned the corner into an alley, only to see Goro Akechi with his wrist tightly in the grasp of a man he didn’t recognize. He was smiling, but his eyes were dark and threatening in a way that Akira had seen once before, a lifetime ago now. “Not until you give me what you owe me,” the man hissed, tightening his hold. Akira’s pulse pounded in his ears.

“Very well then,” Akechi said pleasantly, and before Akira even had a chance to intervene, Akechi had flipped their positions so that he was shoving the man up against the brick wall by his collar. The smile had left his face and he looked almost bored, now. He lifted up his knee and pressed it between the man’s legs threateningly. “You have ten seconds to convince me not to vasectomize you.”

“ _Akechi,_ ” Akira interrupted in alarm, and Akechi stilled immediately.

The man took advantage of this moment of hesitation. He shoved Akechi back, spitting out a “ _fucking whore_ ” and flipping him off before making his escape through the crowded main street. Akira instinctually made to chase after him, but Akechi grabbed him firmly by the arm.

“He is incredibly lucky that you happened to be here,” Akechi said lowly, his eyes blazing. “Because, otherwise, I would have killed him.”

Part of Akira was inclined to let him after what he’d just seen, but it was probably best that he didn’t say so. “What happened?” Akira asked, his hands shaking. “Akechi—”

“We’re not talking about this here,” Akechi cut him off curtly, looping his arm through Akira’s and pulling him toward the train station. “God willing, the train will crash on the way and we’ll never have to talk about it at all.”

It didn’t, and they rode to Akechi’s apartment in tense silence. Akira wasn’t sure what he’d seen in Shinjuku, didn’t even have a guess, really, but it had left a bad taste in his mouth. Something told him he wasn’t going to like this conversation. “Do you want anything to drink?” Akechi asked calmly as he kicked off his shoes, heading to the kitchen and opening the near-empty fridge. “I have tap water or instant coffee.”

“Akechi,” Akira said, getting straight to the point. “What were you doing in Shinjuku?”

Akechi exhaled slowly, closing the fridge and moving to lean against the counter. “It’s not really anything for you to worry about, but I suppose I don’t have any reason to keep it from you,” he said tiredly. “That man… he was angry that I wouldn’t accept his money and sleep with him.”

Akira closed his eyes.Took a deep, calming breath. “And why the _hell_ did he think that was for sale?” he asked, his anger increasing even as the words came out of his mouth. Akechi chuckled darkly.

“Well, he wasn’t exactly wrong,” he said simply, twirling a lock of hair around his finger. He tilted his head with a smile. “But I am still allowed to have standards.”

Akira ran a shaky hand through his hair, sitting down on the couch and mentally talking himself down from doing something stupid like punching a hole through the wall. “Please tell me you’re not saying what I think you are,” he said softly.

“At first I would sneak into bars and pick up anyone willing, but it became tedious. I don’t exactly have unlimited time to spend pretending I’m interested drunk, vulgar men,” he said distastefully. “So I figured it was better to get straight to the point.”

“So what, you’re letting older men who are perfectly okay with paying a high schooler to have sex with them touch you?” Akira said, trying to keep his voice steady. Akechi rolled his eyes, clearly unphased by Akira’s horror.

“If it helps you sleep better at night, I would be nineteen by now were time actually passing for us,” he said casually. “And as far as health concerns go, anything I could possibly contract would be gone by the time the day resets. Like I said, there’s nothing to be concerned about.”

Akira stood up again angrily. “That’s not the _point_ Akechi! Those men are _disgusting_ and should be in _jail_ , and the thought someone like that laying their hands on you…” he grit out. He wanted to grab Akechi and shake some sense into him, but he clenched his hands at his side to suppress the urge. “Why are you doing this?”

Akechi frowned and looked away, picking at his nails distractedly. “I just need… something. Something to ground me when it becomes unbearable,” he said quietly, like he was hoping Akira wouldn’t hear him. He laughed and shook his head. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

Akira tugged his sleeves down instinctively. “I’m literally the only person who could possibly understand,” he said. He sighed. “You should’ve come to me about this.” Akechi’s eyebrows shot up.

“Haha, yes, because _I need to be held down and fucked to feel something_ comes up easily in conversation,” he said crudely, and Akira couldn’t help the way his face heated up at the words. Akechi rolled his eyes. “What, were you going to offer to help?”

“I could,” Akira said without thinking.

A thick silence settled over them. Akechi was staring at him with wide eyes, opening and closing his mouth several times like he couldn’t come up with the words to say. Akira held his breath. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. There was a whole different weight to this conversation, now.

“I… what?” Akechi finally managed, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat. “You can’t just say whatever you feel like.”

Akira swallowed. “I… meant it,” he said, because he did. “I don’t want those guys touching you. If that’s what you need, then I… I can help you.”

“Stop it,” Akechi snapped, scowling suddenly. “I’m not going to let you pity fuck me to make yourself feel better. I’m done talking about this.”

“Akechi. This has been going on long enough now,” Akira said, his heart fluttering like a hummingbird in his chest. “You know that’s not all it is.”

Akechi stared at him in disbelief, pausing to mull over his words. He swallowed. “Say it, then,” he said softly.

Akira took a shaky breath. There was no going back now. “I want you,” he said, not just because he knew it was what Akechi needed to hear, but because it was true. 

Akechi was across the room and crushing their mouths together before he could even react. He grabbed at Akira’s clothes and pulled them together until there was no space anywhere between them, like he was trying to absorb him into his skin. Akira kissed him back with fervor, his mind spinning.

Everything was different now.

They ended up as a tangle of limbs on Akechi’s futon, Akira’s heart pounding in his ears as he felt Akechi’s body respond underneath him. “Have you done this before?” Akechi whispered at one point, and Akira nodded, because he had. Never like this, though. This was different, because it was Akechi. It had always been Akechi.

It was just like the time when he’d hugged him; Akechi was desperate and shaking and frantic, like he was starving for it. Like being touched and wanted like this was all he needed to stay alive. “Akechi…” Akira breathed against his throat, rubbing a hand down his side and trying to get him to _calm down._ Akechi responded by clutching him more tightly.

“Call me Goro,” he whispered. Akira groaned, catching his mouth again desperately.

“Goro,” he said between breaths. “Goro, Goro, _Goro_.”

 

Akira was shaken from his half-awake state by a cold breeze hitting his bare skin, and he blinked his eyes open blearily. Goro was sitting on the edge of the futon near the window. “Hey,” Akira muttered sleepily to his form, silhouetted against the sunset outside. Goro glanced at him, exhaling a cloud of smoke and bringing his cigarette back up to his lips.

“Hey,” he repeated softly, giving him a small smile before turning back to look out the window. Akira sat up, running a hand through the tangles of his hair.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked. Goro let out a short breath of laughter.

“I was just thinking about my mother,” he said simply, pulling his knees up to his chest. “Wondering what she would think of me if she were watching now. If she’d be disappointed.”

Akira frowned. “Goro…”

“All this time I’ve justified my actions by telling myself it was all for her, to get _justice_ on her behalf, but it doesn’t even matter now, does it? It was all for nothing. I can’t do anything about Shido, I can’t avenge her, all I can fucking do is die without accomplishing anything over and over again,” he continued, quiet but frantic, his voice breaking apart at the seams. “I guess this is recompense for what I’ve done. All the people I’ve killed… I don’t even know how many deaths I’d have to die to make up for them all.”

Akira felt his stomach twist into knots. He should’ve noticed. He shouldn’t have fallen for the act again, he shouldn’t have let Goro struggle like this by himself all this time. He was useless as ever. “I think… she’d understand. Better than I or anyone else could,” he said softly. “All of this is because of what he did to the two of you.”

Goro turned to look at him, reaching over to brush his hair out of his eyes. “You remind me of her, sometimes,” he said, letting his hand fall back to his side. He brought his cigarette to his lips again and inhaled deeply. Akira tilted his head curiously at the dark expression on his face.

“Is that a good thing?” he asked.

Goro turned away again, ashing his cigarette out on the windowsill. “It’s a scary thing,” he replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this might be a good time to point out that the idea for this fic initially spouted from [this](https://louishyeon.tumblr.com/post/168014058543/i-need-to-feel-alive) fanart
> 
> REALLY nervous about this chapter i’m not great at like... the natural progression of romance? idk anyway i hope u enjoy <3 thank u as always for your nice comments ily all


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: suicide mentions including a canon suicide that happened in-game careful friends

Shinya’s mother was a pain in his ass.

Akira just barely managed to dodge her charged Rising Slash, which almost certainly would’ve knocked him unconscious, and threw a barely-effective Swift Strike her way. This was bad. He hadn’t exactly come to Mementos with self-preservation in mind, but Goro was going to be pissed if he ended up dying.

Well, if worse came to worst, he could tell Goro that he’d come down to test a theory regarding the time loop, which was technically true. He was curious to see if changes of heart were also affected by the loop, or if they would reset the next day along with everything else. Were changes in human psyche affected by the displacement of time? He wasn’t sure what it would mean if not, but it was worth investigating either way. Maybe it would give them some sort of hint toward whatever the hell they were supposed to be accomplishing.

Also, he just wanted to fight something.

The next Rising Slash didn’t miss. It wasn’t charged this time, so he managed to stay within the realm of consciousness, but it did knock him flat on his back. Not good. There was a reason he had a team. He wasn’t like Goro, who would have easily been able to take out an enemy like this by himself.

He closed his eyes. If he let this Dakini kill him right now, there was a chance that the loop could end there. There was always a chance. Maybe the criteria was something as simple as him dying in the Metaverse; it’s not like they had any way of knowing. And then what? Goro wouldn’t be happy, but… he’d be fine. He’d already accepted Akira’s death, once, and he could do it again. Besides, he had everyone else. And they had him. They would be able to take down Shido easily, even without their leader. Everything would be okay.

More than likely, though, he’d just wake up again with the horrific knowledge that he’d been beaten to death by the monstrous cognitive mother of a little boy he’d befriended. And he’d have to live with that, on top of everything else.

Before he could even finish contemplating, however, a deep bellow broke through the usual eerie whispers of Mementos. “ _Persona!_ ”

Akira forced himself up, watching the Dakini get blown back by a hard-hitting Brave Blade. He didn’t even have to look to know who it was. “On your feet, leader,” Yusuke said, moving to stand slightly in front of him. Akira forced himself back to his feet despite his body’s protest.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, focusing on support while Yusuke dealt the heavy blows. They had an easy camaraderie in battle, seeing as he always kept Yusuke on the front lines during their excursions. Yusuke charged up, readying himself for the final blow. 

“Saving you, it would seem,” he said simply, dodging the Shadow’s attack and dealing one more definitive Brave Blade.

The Shadow reverted back into the form of Shinya’s mother, whimpering pathetically as she shrank away from them. “I lost… I’m going to get everything taken from me again…” she said desperately. “Society sees me as a loser. I’ve got no money. I have no reason to be proud of myself.”

Akira felt his chest tighten. He was even more glad, suddenly, that he hadn’t asked Goro to come along. “You have your son,” he said, because he wished that he had the ability to go back in time and tell another single mother the same thing.

“I have Shinya…” she said, like a realization had washed over her all at once. “Yes… I realize that now. The greatest happiness was with me this whole time. I have to be a good mother for his sake.”

If only Goro’s mother had been able to come to the same conclusion. Things would have turned out so much differently.

“Well then. That request didn’t seem particularly out of the ordinary,” Yusuke said, straightening up and putting his katana away once Akira grabbed the treasure. “So I wonder why it is that you thought you had to pursue it on your own.”

Akira limped over the the nearest wall, leaning against it with a wince. “What are you doing here, Yusuke?” he asked again. Yusuke crossed his arms and gave him _that_ look, the one that convinced Akira without a doubt that he could see every color and shape of his soul.

“I saw you enter from the station,” he explained cooly. “So I thought I’d follow and see what your intentions were. I can’t say I discovered the answer, however.”

“I just… I didn’t want to bother you guys with this. Not while everyone’s on edge because of Shido’s palace,” he said. It was a terrible excuse, and he and Yusuke both knew it. He’d never come into Mementos alone before, for any reason. “This was just a personal thing I needed to take care of.”

Yusuke moved toward where Akira was leaning, sinking to the floor with his back against the wall. Akira hesitated for a moment, before joining him. “You’re hurt,” Yusuke said, quietly. “Did you bring any healing items?”

“Oh, um, no, I must’ve—”

“Why?” Yusuke cut him off, stopping the imminent poor excuse in its tracks. Akira closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall.

“Just say what you want to say, Yusuke,” he said tiredly.

Yusuke paused, as if thinking over what exactly that was. “You’re aware that when I lived with Madarame, there were other pupils who lived there as well for a while, yes?” he started casually. “One of them, Kobayashi-senpai, was around for a few years when I was younger. I think you might have heard of him from Nakanohara-senpai.”

Akira felt his blood run cold. He knew where this was going. “Wait, wait, Yusuke—”

“I was rather young, so there are only a few things I remember about him. But I do recall that he would get in arguments with the other pupils older than me quite often,” Yusuke continued, unphased. “They would criticize him for engaging in reckless behavior, such as getting into fights and utilizing drugs. It all came to a head, of course, when he—”

“Yusuke!” Akira interrupted, his heart rate spiking uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, I know you saw terrible things happen in that house, but I… I’m not going to kill myself. That’s not what this is.”

Yusuke gave him The Look again. “Of course, I wasn’t immediately jumping to that conclusion. I was merely drawing comparisons,” he said lightly. “I’ve noticed some concerning changes in your demeanor since the interrogation room, is all.”

Akira blinked. Had it really been that long? It hadn’t really occurred to him, but now that he thought about it, his terrifying encounters with death had started before the time loop had even begun. He’d tried to force himself to forget about that time, frankly. About what it had felt like to get drugged and beaten until he was out of his own mind, about the anxiety of sitting and waiting until the last second to see whether or not he was going to get shot point blank. He had more pressing matters to focus on, now. “Maybe I’ve been a little stressed, with everything going on,” he said, though he knew there wasn’t any point in making up excuses anymore. He’d been caught. “But it’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“You know,” Yusuke continued, like he hadn’t heard him at all. “There were times that I felt like there was no escape, as well. I was ashamed of myself, and I felt worthless, and I couldn’t see a future beyond what my life had become.”

Akira swallowed thickly. He couldn’t say those sentiments were unfamiliar, but Yusuke had it all wrong. Akira was _scared_ of death. He’d been scared in the interrogation room, as his mind spun with drugs and pain and he waited to live or to die. He’d been scared the times his heart had stopped beating on this day, when he’d woken up gasping for air, disturbed and feeling wrong in his own body. More than anything, though, he was scared by the thought that Goro went through that every single day, and no matter how much he tried, there was nothing Akira could do to stop it.

So he inflicted pain on himself, because he was too afraid to die and too weak to handle living. Pathetic. He was such a joke.

Yusuke turned to look at him meaningfully. “I’m eternally grateful that I forced myself to carry on, however,” he continued. “Because eventually, I was able to find my light at the end of the tunnel. And it was you.”

Akira looking away, rubbing at his eyes. “Don’t say that,” he said numbly. “You would’ve saved yourself, Yusuke. You didn’t need me to do that for you.”

“Think that if you'd like, but you’re wrong,” Yusuke said simply. “And, Akira… while I cannot speak on behalf of everyone, please let me be the first to apologize. We should not have made you go through with the interrogation room plan. It was far too risky, and none of us considered the repercussions it would have on you. I am deeply sorry.”

Akira inhaled shakily. God, he loved Yusuke. Maybe could have _loved_ Yusuke, if they’d met under normal circumstances, or lived even remotely normal lives. But as it was, this was enough. “Thank you,” he said softly, trying to hide the waver in his voice as he quickly wiped away the dampness gathering in his eyes. “I’m glad you followed me here.”

Yusuke stood up, holding out a blue-gloved hand to him. “Let’s go back, together,” he said. Akira nodded. Together.

Maybe there were some things he just couldn’t do on his own. And maybe he didn’t have to.

 

“They really did it! The Phantom Thieves did it!” Shinya proclaimed excitedly. “My mom really did have a change of heart!”

Akira felt a strange feeling wash over him, like he was witnessing something significant. He didn’t know how or why, but this meant something. “I’m glad to hear that, Shinya,” he said, patting the boy on the head fondly. Shinya beamed at him.

“By the way, Akira-san,” Shinya said, lowering his voice and glancing to the side warily. “Who’s that?”

Akira glanced over toward where Goro was leaning against the vending machine several feet away. He grinned. “That’s my friend,” he explained. “Sorry, he’s kind of shy.”

“I can hear you,” Goro said, a vein in his temple throbbing as he smiled. “Hello, Shinya-kun. My name is Goro Akechi.”

“Do you know the Phantom Thieves too, Akechi-san?” Shinya immediately asked, his eyes lit up with excitement. Goro blinked and glanced at Akira accusingly.

“Um…”

“Anyway, tell me what happened with your mom,” Akira interjected quickly. Shinya nodded, his attention immediately back to the matter at hand.

“Oh, right. She apologized to me when she came home, and even made my favorite dinner! She broke down crying and told me she’ll be a better mother from now on…” he said. Akira caught Goro shifting uncomfortably out of the corner of his eye. “I guess winning and losing doesn’t matter when it comes to just being happy.”

_Death and defeat are different things. It’s fine if I don’t make it, but I have to win._ Akira glanced at Goro pointedly, who in turn avoided his eyes.

“I’m really proud of you, Shinya,” Akira said with a smile. “Are you gonna be okay now?” Shinya nodded rapidly.

“Definitely. I’m gonna get stronger, no matter what. Strong enough so I can protect my mom,” he said, his eyes sparkling with determination. “I realized something from you and the Phantom Thieves. Instead of destroying others, protecting and saving people is what makes a person strong.”

“He’s a good kid,” Akira told Goro as they watched Shinya run off back toward the arcade a few moments later. “He reminds me a lot of you.”

Goro sighed, looking a bit unsettled by the conversation. “I can't imagine why,” he said dryly. He glanced back at Shinya’s retreating back wistfully. “He’s lucky to have you.”

The _unlike me_ went unsaid. _I wonder why we couldn’t have met a few years earlier._ Akira felt his chest clench uncomfortably.

Shinya had been right, about saving others being a measure of strength. So what did it say about Akira? He could never save Goro, not at any point in time, not under any circumstance.

Goro nearly jumped out of his skin when Akira pulled him into a hug. “C-can we not make a habit out of this?” he spluttered. “Akira, _please_ , we’re in public.”

Akira chuckled into his shoulder. “Hugs _still_ embarrass you?” he teased. “You know we’re having sex right?”

“That’s different,” Goro mumbled. “Sex doesn’t carry the same emotional weight.”

Akira pulled back to stare at Goro exasperatedly. “I’m seriously worried about you if you actually think that,” he said flatly. He released Goro completely and moved to lean against the wall beside him. “Anyway, I didn’t just bring you here to meet Shinya. I have to tell you something. Don’t be mad.”

Goro rolled his eyes. “I’ll try to keep my volatile emotions in check,” he said dryly. 

Akira was tempted to remind him of their first engine room encounter before he put himself above “volatile emotions”, but he figured that wouldn’t help his cause, so he let it go. “I went to Mementos yesterday,” he started hesitantly. “That’s why Shinya’s mother had a change of heart.” Goro’s expression immediately darkened.

“Oh, I see,” he said. “So when I make reckless decisions without informing you, I get guilt-tripped, but it’s okay when you do it.”

Akira wanted to argue that going into Mementos alone wasn’t quite on the same level as blowing up a gas station or prostituting himself, but again, probably not helpful. “It wasn’t reckless, it… I was fine,” he said, brushing him off. “The point is, that was yesterday. The change of heart didn’t reset.”

Goro hummed thoughtfully. “Alright. So what does that mean?” he asked, lighting a cigarette casually. Akira shrugged.

“I have no idea,” he admitted. “But I think maybe… we need to go to the depths of Mementos to find out.”

It was a thought he’d had for a while, seeing as Morgana was always insisting there were answers down there. But now that he knew for a fact the Metaverse ha something to do with all of this, he was even more convinced that what they were looking for was in the depths. “I see. You’ve made it down that far, then?” Goro asked. Akira rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Well, no,” he admitted. “The door is sealed. It probably won’t open until we change Shido’s heart.”

Goro deadpanned at him. “So essentially, it’s impossible. Glad we had this conversation,” he said exasperatedly.

“It’s not impossible,” Akira insisted.

“Akira,” Goro said slowly, as if talking to a child. “We cannot possibly secure the route, send the calling card, defeat Shido, and make our way all the way to the depths of Mementos all before midnight. You all just barely managed to accomplish the first part.”

“Yeah, well, some jerk kind of tried to kill us in the process,” Akira drawled pointedly. Goro smiled and threw up a peace sign. “Anyway, it’s not gonna be easy, but we can do it. We’re just gonna need help.”

Goro sighed. “I guess it’s a good thing you’re so popular then,” he said. He took a deep drag of his cigarette. “Well, whatever you decide, I’ll follow your lead, Joker. I imagine this will take a bit of planning.”

Akira nodded, glancing at the time. It was already late afternoon. “Yeah, let’s not worry about it for today,” he said. “We’re definitely not lacking in time.” Goro glanced at him meaningfully.

“For today, then, we can go back to my place if you’d like,” he said, a hint of a plea in his voice. He glanced at his watch as well. “I should still have a few hours.”

Akira couldn’t help the bark of laughter that burst out of him, caught off guard himself by the suddenness of it. The calm, casual way that Goro had suggested they had time to hook up before his inevitable death of the day was as hilarious as it was not at all. Goro blinked at him. “ _What?_ ” he snapped, clearly thrown off by his reaction. Akira shook his head.

“Nothing. I just…” he said, still grinning in amusement and trying his best to keep himself from laughing again. “I think I’m going crazy.”

Goro stared at him for a moment, before letting out a breathy laugh. “Please don’t,” he said lightly. “One of us has to maintain some semblance of sanity. And it already isn’t me.”

 

“I’m going to ask you a question, and I want you to be completely honest with me,” Makoto said, her arms crossed and her lips pursed so tightly they were almost white. “Are the two of you on drugs?”

Akira wasn’t offended, honestly. He glanced down at Goro, who was leaning against the counter beside him and smoking a cigarette, his hood pulled up over his messy hair and his dark circles prominent on his makeup-devoid face. Akira couldn’t imagine he looked much better, with his skin still marred with bruises and his loungewear that he hadn’t bothered to change out of. It was difficult to keep up with appearances when it was the absolute last thing on your mind.

That, along with the fact that they just claimed to have relived this day 152 times now, made Makoto’s conclusion a pretty reasonable one.

“I know it’s hard to believe. And there’s no way we can prove it,” Akira said, rubbing the back of his neck. “But please, guys, we have limited time here. I need you to trust me.”

Futaba massaged her temples. “I mean, considering the existence of the Metaverse and all of the stuff we can do, I guess something like this isn’t too far-fetched,” she said admittedly. “But why just you two? If it has to do with Personas, shouldn’t we all be involved?”

“Akira and I are different from the rest of you,” Goro spoke up, shrinking a bit under everyone’s attention as it was directed to him. “To begin with, we’re both able to summon more than one Persona.”

The cafe dissolved into an uproar. “ _You_ can do that too?!” Ryuji asked, a bit louder than the rest as always. “What the eff? Since when?”

Akira grimaced. Now was the worst possible time for them to find out about Loki, and everything his existence implied. “Since always. It’s not really important,” he muttered dismissively.

“I don’t know about this, Akira-kun,” Haru said hesitantly. “This is a lot to ask us to believe, and to trust Akechi as a teammate again based solely on this story…”

“I believe them,” Morgana interjected suddenly, jumping up on the counter. He looked troubled. “All day, I’ve felt like something has been… off. I don’t really know how to explain it, but… somehow I just know that what they’re saying is true.”

The nine of them fell into silence for several moments. “Okay,” Ann finally spoke up, her twintails bouncing as she nodded. “What do you want us to do, leader?”

They all turned to Akira expectantly, and he let out a breath of relief. “Thanks, guys,” he said. He glanced at the clock. They had thirteen hours until midnight, it was time to focus. “Okay, listen up, we have to go over this quickly. Futaba and I came up with this plan, and I think if we all do our part it could work.”

“Uhh, what? We did?” Futaba asked, tilting her head in confusion.

Akira rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, um, but you wouldn’t remember. Time loop,” he explained vaguely. Futaba’s eyes widened.

“Woah… that’s trippy,” she said, as if the true implications of what was happening dawned on her for the first time. “Well, in that case, I’m sure it’s a great plan. I trust alternate-reality Futaba with my life.”

Akira grabbed a handful of chess pieces and placed them on the booth table they were gathered around. “Okay, so, we’re gonna have to split into groups. First, Ryuji and Haru, you two are gonna confront the Cleaner in the engine room and get the last letter of recommendation,” he said, pushing a black queen and bishop off to the side. “Once you secure the route to the treasure, come right back here. Then we’ll stream the calling card.”

“Oh, right, I was gonna hack into the TV network and air the calling card live,” Futaba said. “But… I guess I already told you that.”

Akira smiled. “You did,” he confirmed. “It’s a good idea.” Futaba rubbed at her temples again.

“Trippy,” she repeated under her breath.

“Right, so Futaba, the calling card is on you. Next,” Akira continued, grabbing a white queen, knight, and rook and separating them as well. He frowned. “Yusuke, Ann, and Makoto… your job is to take down Shido. It’s not going to be easy, but Makoto and Yusuke, you’re our hardest hitters, so if you focus on offense while Ann provides backup… I think the three of you are our best shot.”

He shifted anxiously as the three of them exchanged a glance. “Understood, leader,” Yusuke eventually said with a nod. Ann and Makoto continued to hesitate briefly, before nodding as well. Akira exhaled slowly.

“Be careful,” he insisted. “If it starts to be too much, pull out. Don’t take any unnecessary risks and _don’t die_ , do you understand? It’s okay to run if you have to.”

Goro cleared his throat. “Akira, I’m going too,” he said, firmly. Akira stared at him.

“I… Goro, you can’t,” he said, ignoring Ryuji’s disbelieving _Goro?_ in response. “I need you with me in Mementos. It’s gonna take a while to get all the way to the bottom.”

“So I’ll meet you there after,” he said, unmoved. Akira grimaced.

“Look, I know how you must feel, but you can’t fight Shido and then come all the way to the depths of Mementos alone, on top of whatever we’re going to have to do when we actually open the door,” he said insistently. “I know you’re strong, but that’s too much, even for you.”

Goro pulled his hood down and grabbed Akira by the shoulders, his face deadly serious. “I’m not asking you,” he said, his eyes burning. “There is nothing more important to me than this. I’m going to be there when Shido falls, I _have_ to. You cannot take that away from me.”

Akira stared into Goro’s fiercely determined eyes, and exhaled shakily. “If you go into that Palace, he’s just going to kill you again,” he said softly. Goro hesitated, before smiling and touching their foreheads together.

“If that happens, then I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said. He clutched Akira’s shoulders more tightly. “I’m going to try to be there with you in Mementos, but you have to let me do this first. Please.”

Akira closed his eyes. “Okay,” he said, forcing himself to nod. “Okay.”

They broke apart at the sound of a throat being cleared loudly. “Uh,” Ryuji said awkwardly. “Why do I feel like we just watched something we weren’t supposed to?”

“They’ve been through a lot together…” Ann pointed out, flushing slightly.

“Oh, seriously? Ew,” Futaba said with an eyeroll. “Can’t say I didn’t see it coming, but I expected you to have better taste.” She didn’t clarify who she was talking to, and Akira didn’t really want to ask. He turned away to hide what he was sure was an embarrassingly red face from the rest of them.

“Don’t just make assumptions,” he muttered. It wasn’t like they were dating, though Akira was way past the point of denying that he was attracted to him. Whether or not Goro felt the same way was a different story. Akira wasn’t so deluded as to think that their sleeping together was anything more than that, seeing as Goro would definitely be doing it with someone else if not him, and it wasn’t like he was going to ask. The thought of having the _what are we_ talk in a situation like this was laughable.

Basically, it was complicated.

“Are you all in elementary school?” Goro asked pleasantly. “Can we get back to the task at hand, please?”

“I agree,” Akira said, shaking himself out of his thoughts. He sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Okay, so… change of plan. We’re not gonna need the last letter of recommendation because Goro can access the treasure room without being invited, so Ryuji and Haru, I have a new task for you. You’re gonna look for Shido’s cognition of Goro, and you’re going to keep him as far away from the real Goro as possible. Understand?”

Ryuji and Haru exchanged a glance. “Uh, sure, dude,” Ryuji said, clearly past the point of needing an explanation.

“Good. While you’re all doing that, Morgana, Futaba and I will stream the calling card from here,” Akira said, becoming more anxious about this entire thing as time went on. He took a deep breath. “Okay, next is letting the public know about Shido’s change of heart. I’m leaving that to you, Futaba.”

Futaba scoffed, kicking her feet up on the booth. “Hacking into his office security cameras and leaking his meltdown online? Give me a challenge next time,” she said with a grin. “I’m on it, jefe.”

“Knew I could count on you,” Akira said with a weak smile. “Morgana, I’m gonna have you wait for Goro to come back from Shido’s Palace, and the two of you will come down together.” Morgana immediately mewed in protest.

“Ugh, I have to be on _Akechi duty?_ ” he complained. “What about you? Where are you gonna be?”

“Waiting for the door to open in Sheriruth,” he explained. “We’re gonna be cutting it close on time, and even if Goro doesn’t make it before midnight, I still want to see what’s down there.”

“Then why can’t I go with you?” Morgana whined. 

Akira sighed, kneeling down beside the counter so that they were face-to-face. “Listen, I’m asking you to do this as a friend,” he said. “I’ll be fine by myself, but Goro’s gonna be worn out after fighting Shido. Please make sure he doesn’t die. Please.”

Morgana huffed. “Alright, _fine_ , I’ll watch over your boyfriend,” he mumbled. Akira smiled and scratched him behind the ears. Goro cleared his throat loudly.

“I do _not_ need the fucking cat to babysit me,” he said icily. Akira rolled his eyes.

“We don’t have time to argue about this,” he said dismissively. “Does everyone know what they’re doing?”

“Yuuup. It’s not a bad plan, I think it might actually work,” Futaba said, already typing away on her laptop. “As expected of me.”

“Ready whenever, leader,” Ann agreed, standing up and cracking her knuckles. “This isn’t really how I expected it to go, but I’m ready to give Shido what’s coming to him.”

Akira nodded, taking a shaky breath. “Be careful, all of you,” he said. “And thank you.”

Goro lingered as the rest of them, sans Futaba and Morgana, headed out to make their way to the Diet Building. He seemed as hesitant to be separated from Akira as Akira was to let him go. “I’ll meet you in Mementos as soon as I’m done handing Shido’s ass to him, I promise,” Goro said sincerely. “You’re not going down there without me.”

Akira sighed. “Don’t do anything stupid,” he said. Goro smiled.

“Me? I never make poor choices,” he said lightly. He reached up to brush Akira’s hair out of his eyes. “See you soon.”

Futaba snorted as Akira watched Goro’s retreating back through the window. “Stay focused, lover boy,” she said, petting Morgana as he curled up to watch her work. “You ready for this?”

Akira took a deep breath, before nodding firmly. “Yeah,” he said. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shinya reminds me sooo much of goro he's really just what goro would be if someone had been there to change his mom's heart :(


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> goro pov babey
> 
> if you notice some inconsistencies it’s probably because i updated a few minor things i forgot to mention in the last chapter, so if you’re confused about some things just go back and read the very end and it should clear it up. sorry i’m awful at keeping my thoughts organized i’m trying!

“The hell are you doing?” Sakamoto hissed obnoxiously as they approached the Diet Building. “You know walkin’ around with your hood up and sunglasses on in December makes you look more suspicious.” Goro side-eyed him.

“Trust me, it won’t do us any favors if I’m recognized,” he said pleasantly, shooting off one of his camera smiles. “I am a bit of a celebrity, after all.”

Niijima groaned. “Oh, please, spare us the act,” she said flatly. “We’re way past that point, don’t you think? Let’s just get this over with.” Goro nodded.

“My apologies,” he replied, so deeply sarcastic that it bordered on sounding genuine. “I promise to only be an unpleasant murderer from now on.”

He wasn’t so much putting on an act as he was just… unsure of how to behave around them, really. What was an appropriate way to present yourself in front of people who knew you attempted to assassinate their friend, but didn’t yet know that you’d also killed two of their parents and countless other people? This was hardly the time to be worried about it, but, well, he was nothing if not obsessively conscious of how other people perceived him. “Alright, guys, cut it out,” Ann said exasperatedly. “We’re all on the same side right now.”

“I am curious,” Kitagawa spoke up contemplatively. “You were working for Shido, yes? So what made you decide to join us in going against him? What changed?”

Goro grimaced. He hated having to explain this. Last time, it had been mid-meltdown in the engine room, and he wasn’t really looking forward to seeing their looks of judgement and disgust again. 

Though if he thought back hard enough, there were probably some looks of sympathy and understanding in there, too. He hadn’t been looking very closely at the time.

“Masayoshi Shido is my father,” he said simply, his expression darkening. “I’ve hated him for as long as I’ve been alive. The only thing that’s changed is that carrying out my original plan is no longer possible, due to this convenient situation Akira and I have found ourselves in.”

There was a long pause as the others stared at him wide-eyed, seemingly at a loss for words. “He’s… he’s your _what?_ ” Sakamoto finally spoke up in alarm. Goro smiled pleasantly.

“Oh, he’s not aware of it, though,” he explained. “He abandoned my mother after knocking her up. I’m probably one of many bastards he has running around, but I’m the most vengeful, I suppose.”

Ann shifted uncomfortably. “Akechi…” she muttered.

“Why did you do all of this, then?” Niijima snapped. “You know better than anyone what a horrible person he is, so why did you become his _hitman?_ ”

Goro shrugged tiredly. “I just… wanted him to suffer as much as I did,” he said. “I wanted to help him reach the peak of power before I tore him down. I wanted the Prime Minister of Japan to lose sleep at night knowing I could tell the world I was his illegitimate kid at any moment, and I wanted him to face the shame and scorn of society that my mother and I went through. I was just so _angry_ , and… in my mind the end justified the means.”

He had been wrong, obviously. He’d had plenty of time and exposure to Akira Kurusu to realize that by now. And hell if he wasn’t paying for it.

Okumura turned to him, something burning behind her eyes. “I’m sorry to hear that. I know what it’s like, to feel abandoned and unacknowledged by your parents,” she said, curt despite her words. “But in your desperation to get someone to care about you, you were too self-centered to realize you’d already found it. You were important to Akira, even before this… ordeal you’re in together. But you tried to kill him anyway, and you very nearly succeeded. So forgive me if you don’t have my sincerest sympathies.”

“I wasn’t asking for them, but thank you for the sentiment,” Goro replied through a gritted smile. He sighed. “For the record, I’ve always been fond of Akira as well.”

“You do realize that makes it worse, right?” Niijima said.

Goro nodded. “I do,” he replied simply.

“So _why,_ Akechi?” Ann asked, a bit pleadingly. Like she was desperate for some sort of redeemable explanation that he just couldn’t provide.

Goro looked away and pulled his hood down further over his face, suddenly very aware of all of their scrutinizing gazes. “Because it was too late,” he said simply. “As much as he willed it, there was nothing he or any of the rest of you could do to change things. So he was just in my way.”

He’d always known that despite his desperate need to be the hero, Akira Kurusu couldn’t save him. Not then, and not now. He was ultimately alone in this, just like he was in everything else.

Everyone seemed to be shocked into silence, so he turned back to them with a charming smile. “I’m sorry, perhaps that was a bit too honest,” he said. “If it’s any consolation, a lot of things have changed since then. I don’t care about any of that anymore. I’m only doing this with all of you right now because Akira asked me to.”

“So… you don’t care about stopping this, um, time loop thing?” Ann asked. “Or do you just think Akira is wrong about the answer being in the depths of Mementos?”

Goro considered that, before shrugging. “I don’t know. It’s possible,” he said casually. Even if it did work, what exactly would he be going back to? He wouldn’t have to die anymore, but all things considered, living wasn’t going to be much of an improvement. “I guess we’ll see.”

“Yes, we will,” Niijima said, pulling out her phone as they finally reached the front of the building. “Is everyone ready?”

Goro felt a chill go down his spine as the real world dissolved around them, revealing Shido’s garish cognition of Japan. It felt like years had passed since he’d last been here. Since he’d died here, at the hands of his father’s perception of him.

“Guess this is where we split up,” Sakamoto said, twirling his iron pipe in his hand. He glanced at Goro. “Gotta go look for… you, or whatever.” Goro nodded.

“Proceed with caution. He’s…” he started, grimacing as he searched for the right words. “He’s nothing but Shido’s tool. He will stop at nothing to carry out his bidding, even at the expense of his own life.”

Sakamoto hummed, regarding him expressionlessly. “Sounds like a real jackass,” he said, but Goro didn’t sense any aggression in his words. “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of him. You guys just send Shido to hell, a’ight?”

“Gladly,” Goro agreed. Sakamoto and Okumura exchanged one last _good luck_ with the rest of them before running off deeper into the ship.

“Gotta admit, I’m a little nervous,” Ann said hesitantly as they approached the main doors. “We’ve never even been in the Metaverse without Akira before.”

Goro snorted, barely restraining himself from mentioning the fact that he was significantly stronger than Akira was, and there was absolutely no need for concern. “We’ll be fine,” he said. “It’s not Shido we have to worry about, it’s… possible unforeseen circumstances.”

“Meaning, your cognitive double?” Niijima surmised. “Akira seemed rather concerned about that.”

Goro exhaled slowly. “Correct,” he said tightly. “I suppose we will just have to place our trust in Sakamoto and Okumura.”

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he felt a heightened awareness of the enemies on the ship with them. “That’s the calling card,” Kitagawa said. “It’s time.”

He would never say so out loud, but Goro was a bit nervous himself. After all, he’d never made it off of this ship alive, and he didn’t have any reason to believe that this time would be any different. Not that that was such a big deal in itself, but… he’d promised Akira he’d meet him in Mementos, and the thought of the other boy waiting for him until he received word of his death left a bad taste in his mouth.

“Well, look what we have here,” a familiar voice rang throughout the auditorium, and Goro felt his skin crawl. “I wish I could say I was surprised by your betrayal, Akechi, but I never trusted you to begin with.”

“Noted,” Goro replied dryly, reaching for his mask. “Unfortunately we’ll have to save the monologuing for another time, we’re in a bit of a hurry.”

The fight itself wasn’t terribly difficult. Being unable to use Loki was a slight handicap, but he’d rather be mildly inconvenienced than reveal himself as the Black Mask. Now wasn’t the time, especially when the entire plan revolved around cooperating with the people who would hate him if they knew the truth. Thankfully, the others were able to easily cover his weaknesses. Niijima and Kitagawa were strong, stronger than he even remembered them being, and Ann was consistent with her healing and support throughout. They made a good team, even without Akira’s leadership.

No, the difficult part was stopping himself from killing Masayoshi Shido when it was all said and done. It was just too tempting. The man who ruined his life was kneeling defenselessly in front of him, and all it would take was one bullet to finally get back at him for the hell he’d put him through. Akira wasn’t even here to stop him this time.

“So, what’s your story?” Shido asked, out of breath as Goro pushed the barrel of his gun hard against his forehead. “Well, even if you don’t tell me, I can probably guess. You’re far too eager for my praise, and I can see a lot of myself in y—”

“Shut _up,_ ” Goro snapped, clicking off the safety.

“ _Akechi,_ ” Ann said in alarm. Goro ignored her.

Shido chuckled. “Am I wrong?” he asked.

Goro’s hand shook as he lowered his gun, gritting his teeth against the urge to take the shot and shut him up permanently. “Yes,” he hissed. “I’m nothing like you.”

Before Shido could respond, he suddenly keeled over and clutched his chest, before disappearing into black mist. Just like the last time.

“What did you do?!” Niijima snapped. Goro cursed loudly.

“God _dammit,_ ” he hissed. How could he have forgotten about this? “It wasn’t me, he put himself in suspended animation to trap us here. Come on, we need to get out quickly.”

The moment they stepped into the front hall, Goro felt his blood freeze in his veins when he heard the _click_ of a gun being cocked near his ear. Of course. “You’re not going anywhere,” sneered the voice he hated most in the world. He exhaled slowly through his teeth.

“Keep going,” he said firmly to the others. “Sakamoto and Okumura are probably already back at the entrance, go find them and get out of here.”

Ann made a distressed noise. “No way!” she said desperately. “Akechi, there’s no time! You’ll—”

“Ann,” Makoto cut her off. “We have to go.”

Ann looked between the two of them, the conflict clear on her face. “Don’t die,” she said fiercely. “I mean it, I’ll be pissed!”

Goro laughed once. “I don’t plan on it,” he said, thinking of Akira waiting for him down in Mementos as he reached for his mask. “This won’t take long.”

“Oh, please. Just give up,” his cognitive double said, his expression blank and threatening. “You’re going to fall alongside Captain Shido, just like you were always meant to.”

Before Goro had the chance to summon Loki like he’d planned, the sounds of chaos and destruction from the ship were suddenly pierced by a high, feminine cry of _Persona!_.

He stumbled in shock as he was suddenly pushed back and shielded behind Captain Kidd’s ship, Sakamoto covering him as Okumura went on the offensive. “W-what are you two doing?!” he snapped. “Get out of here!”

“No chance. We got a job to do, remember?” Sakamoto said with a sharp grin. “Man, I really didn’t think there could be a version of you that was _more_ of an asshole. Guess I stand corrected.”

Goro glowered. “Akira specifically instructed you not to put your lives at risk,” he hissed. “If I die it won’t matter, but we can’t guarantee—”

“Oh, save it,” Sakamoto cut him off boredly. “As if we’re gonna let this guy win like that. We kinda have experience with the whole piece-of-shit-dad thing, right Haru?”

Haru responded with a battle cry as she brought her axe down on the double one more time, watching in satisfaction as he disappeared into a puff of black smoke. “Hm?” she replied calmly. She turned to look at the rising water levels in alarm. “Oh, we should go.”

They were more forcibly projected from the Metaverse than anything, but somehow, they all managed to make it back outside of the Diet Building in one piece. Goro laid on the sidewalk for several moments, trying to catch his breath.

He’d done it. He’d won over Shido for the first time ever, and lived to tell the tale. For now, anyway.

“No time to rest, Crow, we’re on a schedule,” Ann scolded, pulling him to his feet, and he felt the world spin as he tried to maintain his balance. God, he was _exhausted_. “Akira’s waiting for you.”

Goro nodded, his head pounding as he did so. He had no idea how he was going to make it all the way to the depths of Mementos like this. “Right,” he said. “Let’s go.”

Futaba and Morgana were alone in Leblanc when they returned, as expected. “You’re all alive!” she said enthusiastically. “You got the treasure, I assume?”

Niijima set the legislator’s pin on the table in front of her. “You’re up, Futaba,” she said with a nod. Futaba cackled under her breath and typed away on her laptop.

“On it,” she said with a salute. She glanced up at Goro. “You and Morgana can head out, the whole world will know what a sadsack bastard Shido is by the time you get to the bottom, I promise.”

He nodded, eager to get to Akira as quickly as possible. “Thank you,” he said, looking around at the others. “All of you.”

“Just be careful, okay?” Ann said in concern as she lounged back in one of the booths. “I’m exhausted, I can’t imagine going back into the Metaverse after all that.”

Goro couldn’t imagine it either, frankly, but he would have to get by somehow. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he doesn’t kick the bucket,” Morgana said haughtily, jumping onto the table near him. Goro glowered.

It had been a while since he’d been to Mementos, and it still filled him with the same unsettling feeling of being watched as they stepped into the underground. The voices seemed even louder today, and… _angry_ , somehow. “Ready?” Morgana asked him, now in his startling anthropomorphic mascot form. Goro nodded once, stepping toward the turnstiles.

“Hey, you!” a voice suddenly called, causing Goro to nearly jump out of his skin. He turned quickly to see a couple of vaguely familiar little girls standing outside of a glowing blue door. He blinked slowly, almost convinced he was hallucinating in his exhaustion.

Morgana stared at him judgmentally. “Um, what are you doing?” he asked. Goro ignored him.

“You’re… the ones from that room,” he said, approaching the twins in confusion. “Why are you revealing yourselves to me?”

“Trust me, we’re not happy about it,” the more aggressive twin huffed irritably. “If you wanted our help, you should’ve signed the contract in the first place!”

“The inmate implored us to aid you when you showed up,” the quieter one said calmly. “Normally it would be out of the question, but you _are_ a Wild Card as well, and it is not too much of an inconvenience to do him this favor.”

Suddenly, Goro felt the familiar tingle of magic wash over him, and his deep-set exhaustion lifted immediately. “You better be grateful!” the aggressive one snapped. She narrowed her eyes at him. “This is the right guy, right, Justine? There’s something different about him.”

“Yes, I’m quite certain,” Justine said, tilting her head curiously. “The other one has always looked like this.”

“Hm,” the other one said, tapping her foot. “Well, whatever. Go find the inmate, he can’t finish his rehabilitation if he’s dead.”

“Um, thank you,” Goro said. There were so many things he wanted to ask the two of them, about himself and Akira and the Metaverse in general, but unfortunately, now was not the time.

“Are you done talking to yourself?!” Morgana wailed obnoxiously. “You’re just like Akira, he does this weird thing where he stands in that corner…”

“Come on, he’s waiting,” Goro cut him off, suddenly even more motivated than he had been before. “He went on foot, so we should be easily able to catch up in the bus.”

Morgana eyed him warily. “Alright… just watch it, okay? I don’t trust your driving…” he mumbled, before transforming in a cartoonish puff of smoke. Something stirred in the back of Goro’s mind, like that comment was perhaps something he should linger on, but he was starting up the engine and departing to the depths before he had the opportunity to do so.

Getting through the levels of Mementos was laughably simple, now that he was at full health and energy. In fact, the Shadows actively avoided him almost the entire way down. It wasn’t until the very last floor that they became aggressive, and even then there was a lower enemy presence than normal. He figured he had Akira to thank for that.

And speaking of Akira. “There he is! The door isn’t open yet!” Morgana called from… somewhere as they approached the end of the level. Akira turned at the sound of the bus approaching, looking no worse for wear, much to Goro’s relief.

“You made it,” Akira said breathlessly as Goro hopped out of the car. “How’d everything go?”

Goro shrugged. “As well as it could have,” he said casually. “Everyone’s alright. They were a bit unsettled without their leader, though.”

Akira laughed once, weakly. “I’m sure they managed fine,” he said quietly. He had that look on his face; the sad, distant one that seemed to cross his features more often than not lately. “What about you? Are you okay?”

Goro nodded, adjusting his gloves. “Yes, it was no trouble,” he said. “Especially with the assistance of your, um, wardens.”

“Oh. Good. They gave me a hard time, so I wasn’t sure they would help,” Akira said, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I actually meant… are you okay after everything with Shido?”

Goro blinked, pausing to consider that for the first time. It was… over. Akira had concluded that changes of heart remained outside of the time loop, so that was it. Shido’s palace was gone, as was the sole purpose Goro had been working toward for all of these years. “I don’t know,” he said admittedly. “I don’t have time to think about that right now. Let’s just do what we came to do.”

Akira nodded, turning back toward the door. “If everything goes as planned, it should open any second,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “How much time do we have?”

Goro glanced down at his wristwatch, something he tended to avoid doing if he could help it. Counting down the minutes until his death was morbid even for him, and he refused to acknowledge the pattern out loud, even though he and Akira had both clearly noticed it by now.

He died at around 8pm every single day. Unless, of course, he did something reckless enough to get himself killed before then. 

“An hour and a half,” he concluded grimly. “I don’t know exactly what it is you’re hoping to accomplish here, but we have to do so quickly.”

Akira shrugged. “We might not accomplish anything,” he admitted. “But I just… have a feeling.”

Goro winced as the voices echoing in his head increased in ferocity, as they had been steadily doing the whole way down. He had a feeling, too. It just wasn’t necessarily a good one.

“Yeah, me too,” Morgana suddenly piped up, and Goro nearly jumped, having momentarily forgotten the cat’s presence. “I don’t know what to expect, but… there’s definitely something down here.”

At that moment, the strange door in front of them peeled away to unveil the dark escalator heading further down. Goro took a deep breath as he felt the foreboding sense grow in his mind. “I guess it’s time to find out,” he said, taking a long look at Akira before they departed together toward the depths.

The room they entered on the other side was starkly different from the rest of Mementos. There were several trains stacked up on either side of a long pathway, and hoards of people were heading toward the large, fossilized wall on the far end. “Is it a dead end?” Akira asked, his brow furrowed as they walked down the unsettling, veined pathway.

“No,” Morgana said, bouncing ahead of them. “It’s a door.”

Goro glanced to the side, a shiver running down his spine as he was met with the faces of the public. They were too far away for him to see their expressions, but he knew, somehow, that they were hostile.

Something didn’t want them here. Goro was certain of that.

“Wait,” he said, grabbing Akira’s arm before he could move further toward the door. “Maybe I should go alone.”

Akira raised an eyebrow. “Um, why?” he asked blankly. Goro ran a hand through his hair with a grimace.

“It’s just… I feel like we’re walking into a trap,” he said. “And there’s no need for both of us to be caught in it.”

Morgana scoffed. “I’m sure that must be unsettling for you, since you’re usually the one springing the traps,” he said dryly.

“Yes, thank you for your input,” Goro deadpanned. Fucking cat. He turned back to Akira. “There’s no reason for you to die unnecessarily. It’s an inevitability for me, anyway, so… just let me go. I’ll call for you if I need backup.”

Akira paused eyeing him contemplatively for several moments before cracking a ridiculously handsome grin. “Thanks for worrying about me,” he said, and Goro wanted to punch him in the mouth. “But whatever happens, I can handle it. We’re in this together, okay? We have to be.”

The problem was, Goro wasn’t sure he _could_ handle it. Akira wasn’t as good at hiding his deteriorating mental state as he seemed to think he was. Not that Goro was one to talk, but… Akira was so different from him. It was hard for him to admit even now, but the reality was that Akira was strong and calm and infallible in ways Goro never would be. Akira was important; to him, to so many others, to the _world_ , and Goro had no interest in watching him break. Not like this.

“Just try not to get yourself killed,” Goro said flatly. “And I’m not _worried_ , I’m just trying to be rational.”

“Uh huh,” Akira replied, unconvinced.

“ _God_ , can we move on?” Morgana yowled irritably. “Save your flirting for when you’re alone, please.” Goro had to take a deep breath to keep himself from drop-kicking the cat across the room.

The depths became even more unsettling as they continued on. The residents were all trapped in cages, and as if that wasn’t disturbing enough, they seemed to _want_ to be. Goro had absolutely no idea what was going on here, not even a guess. He wasn’t sure he wanted to.

“The Shadow presence down here is… concerningly high,” Morgana pointed out hesitantly as they took out yet another hostile. “It’s like they’re actively seeking us out to attack us…”

“Obviously,” Goro said. “This entire place sees us as a threat. Can’t you sense it?”

Akira shot him a curious look. “Huh. Now that you mention it, no,” he said. “Usually I can sense the security level pretty well, but… there’s something else covering it up. Something louder.”

“Kinda like something’s calling us, right?” Morgana chimed in. “Something… desperate.”

Akira nodded. “Yeah. Exactly.”

Goro couldn’t feel anything like that at all. Only aggression, which was getting increasingly intense by the minute.

That aggression reached its peak when they entered a room lined with jail cells, and for the second time that day, he was met with his father’s miserable fucking face.

“Goro,” he said. “My son.”

“Oh, _fuck you_ ,” Goro spat. He kept walking, shaking with the effort of keeping himself from strangling him through the bars. “We don’t have time for this shit.”

“Wait, wait,” Akira said, staring wide-eyed at the cell. Now that Goro looked more closely, it wasn’t just Shido in there, but _all_ of those whose hearts were changed by the Phantom Thieves. The gym teacher, Madarame, Kaneshiro… not Okumura, though, he noticed with a grimace. “What’s going on?”

The gym teacher stepped forward, a dark expression on his face. “Salvation,” he said. He glanced between Akira and Goro. “You shouldn’t be here. We won’t allow you to take it from us.”

“Joker, come on,” Goro said anxiously as he physically felt the threat level increase. Getting ripped to shreds by Shadows seemed imminent at this point, but he would rather it happen later rather than sooner. He turned to see a squadron heading toward them, blocking their way forward. “ _Joker_.”

Akira shook his head, tearing himself from his curiosity and ripping off his mask to summon his Persona. “God. There are so many,” he said weakly. Goro could tell the exhaustion was already getting to him.

“Don’t bother with all of them,” Goro instructed as he released a Deathbound. “Just subdue them enough that we can get past and keep going. Conserve your energy.”

Morgana nodded in consent. “Right. Just a little further and…” he said, before pausing and furrowing his brows in concentration. “And… we’ll reach something. I don’t know for sure if it’s what we’re looking for, but, it’s something.”

“Yeah,” Akira agreed. Once again, the two of them were on a wavelength that Goro couldn’t reach. He couldn’t see anything promising in their future at all.

Somehow they managed to push through another level, Morgana and Akira both abruptly stopping in their tracks as they approached a barred door. Goro was hesitant to pause, convinced that they would be swarmed the moment they stopped moving. “This is…” Morgana said in awe. “I think… this is where I come from. No, definitely. I was definitely born here.”

Goro sighed impatiently. “Meaning?” he asked, looking cautiously over his shoulder as the other two studied the door.

“This is it,” Akira said, placing his hand on the bars. “We need to get in here.”

And just like that, the unsettling feeling that had settled heavily over Goro increased tenfold, until it was _screaming_ warning signals in his head. He cursed and clutched his hands over his ears. It wasn’t until Akira kneeled down beside him that he realized he was crouched on the ground. “Crow? Hey, Goro, what’s wrong?”

Goro squeezed his eyes shut. “ _Shit_ , Akira,” he said through gritted teeth. “We have to _run_.”

“Enemies coming in hot from all sides!” Morgana suddenly squeaked anxiously. “Get ready, you guys!”

He tried to shake off the screaming in his mind, but he _couldn’t_ , it was only getting louder. Goro could almost make out actual words through the noise, the tone taunting and malevolent. He pressed his hands over his ears harder.

“Morgana, cover him.”

“What?! Are you crazy? There are too many of them!”

Goro took a deep breath, desperately trying to get his bearings. He needed to fight. Just enough so that they clear a path to run away, he had to—

_You can’t defy your fate, Chosen One._

He bit into his glove to keep himself from screaming. The voice was familiar, somehow. Like it was always there, in the back of his mind, whispering to him incomprehensibly.

_Even with their help, it cannot be done. But you can still be the victor. You can still fulfill your destiny._

“Crow! Get up, come _on!_ ,” Morgana was screeching. “Joker needs backup!”

“Ugh, shut _up_ ,” Goro hissed at the voice in his head, forcing himself to his feet. “Akira…”

Akira moved to cover him immediately, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Are you okay?” he asked, clearly trying to stay calm despite the situation. Goro shook his head.

“It’s because… I’m alive,” he grit out. “Whatever’s down here is pissed that I’m alive. Just let them… kill me. Then you and Morgana run.”

“No,” Akira said immediately.

“Uh, Joker,” Morgana said a bit frantically as he shot off a Garudyne. “We might be running out of options. He’ll just wake up tomorrow anyway, right?”

Goro nodded. “Right,” he said, wincing. “Come on, don’t get worked up. We go through this every day.”

“And we came down here to find a way to _stop_ it,” Akira hissed frustratedly. “I can’t… I can't just leave you down here to get mauled to death so I can escape, I _can’t_ —”

“I told you before we came down here,” Goro said, trying to block out the screaming in his head enough for him to form sentences. “There’s no reason for both of us to die.”

Akira didn’t seem to have a response for that. “Come on, Joker,” Morgana said. “We did everything we could.”

Goro watched as Akira let his Persona fade away, his mask reappearing over his eyes. He let out a sigh of relief.

And then, before Goro could process what was happening, Akira was shoving him out of the way and covering him from behind, and Goro felt a high-powered spell fly so close to him that it made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. “Joker!” Morgana called, and Goro winced at the sound.

And then, everything was quiet. The voices in his head were gone as quickly as they had come, and the Shadows around them dispersed into black smoke.

“What the hell…” Goro groaned, rubbing at his throbbing temples. “Are you alright?”

Silence.

“Akira?”

Morgana let out a low mewl, and Goro’s blood ran cold.

“ _Akira!_ ”

Akira stared back at him with unblinking, glassy eyes, and said nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ik this chapter is probably very confusing but it’s supposed to be hehe lots of hints in here though
> 
> as always thank you so much for reading! this chapter gave me some trouble but hopefully i’ll be back to quick updates after this :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg hi i'm alive i'm SO sorry for the long wait on this chap i'm still chugging away at this fic i promise!

_“Can you hear my voice, Trickster?”_

_The darkness was so thick that he couldn’t be sure if his eyes were open or not. It pressed against him from all sides, until he couldn’t see or think or _breathe_. “Who are you?” he asked, his voice far away, like it was coming from someone else entirely._

_Suddenly, the room was flooded in a blue light, and Akira had to shield his eyes against the blinding hue. A butterfly fluttered past him. It was familiar, for reasons he couldn’t quite pinpoint through his hazy thoughts. “I’m on your side,” the gentle, feminine voice replied. “But all I can do is give you time. The rest is up to you.”_

_“What is?” he asked frantically. “What do you want me to do?”_

_“I think you already know,” she said gently. He frowned._

_“No, I—” he started, before he was suddenly cut off by another voice, far away and barely distinguishable. He tried to look around, but besides the butterfly, everything else around him was still pitch black. “What was that?”_

_The voice called again, louder this time. _Akira_ , it said, clearly ringing through his head. The butterfly began to dim. “Wait!” Akira said, reaching toward it desperately. He watched as it faded completely, just out of his reach._

And then he was shooting up in bed, drenched in a cold sweat and gasping for air.

Before he could even get his bearings, his vision was suddenly obscured by fierce maroon eyes, shaky hands grasping either side of his face. “Akira,” Goro was saying, his eyes wide and crazed in a way Akira hadn’t seen since the first engine room. “Can you hear me? Say something.”

“I… um, yeah,” Akira muttered in a daze, barely aware of what was going on. “Wha’s wrong?”

Goro just stared at him for several minutes, his expression was so impassioned that Akira was momentarily afraid he was going to hit him. Instead, he moved his hands to Akira’s shoulders and pressed his forehead against his chest, breathing deeply. “ _Fuck_ ,” he whispered.

“Um, hello?! What on earth is going on?” Morgana hissed, his hackles raised as he glared at Goro from the end of the bed. “Joker, should I go get backup?”

Akira shook his head. “No, I…” he said, trying to collect his thoughts. “Goro, what happened?”

“Did you just call him _Goro?!_ ” Morgana shrieked. Akira ignored him.

Goro didn’t answer for several moments, his grip on Akira tightening and his breaths coming out long and slow. “You died,” he replied quietly, his head still ducked low. “I didn’t.”

It took a second for the implications of his words to fully sink in. By the time it did, Akira was wide awake, his heart racing in his chest. “You… you survived? You made it through the day?” he said breathlessly. The other boy didn’t respond. “ _Goro—_ ”

“Can you just… give me a minute?” Goro bit out. He sighed, finally lifting his head and staring at Akira deeply. He slowly brought his hand up to rest on Akira’s cheek, before moving his fingers down to press against his pulse point. They stayed like that for several moments. “Hi.”

Akira let out a short, confused laugh. “Hey,” he said, reaching up to grab Goro’s wrist. “You okay?”

Before Goro could answer, he suddenly jumped, cursing loudly and grabbing at his thigh. Morgana was glowering at him, his claws still bared. “You better keep your hands off of him and start talking!” the cat growled. “What the hell is going on?!”

Goro’s hand twitched toward where his gun holster would be in the Metaverse, and Akira was distressed to note that he probably would have actually shot his cat if he had a weapon on him. “Haha, do that again and I’ll put you in a bag and throw you into Tokyo Bay,” Goro said pleasantly.

“Oh? Why, are you bored of shooting people in the head in police stations?” Morgana growled back.

“I’m gonna go make some coffee,” Akira said, tiredly.

 

It wasn’t until they were downstairs that Akira realized that Leblanc wasn’t even open yet. In fact, the sun hadn’t even fully risen in the sky. He couldn’t remember the last time he was awake this early. “How’d you get in here?” he asked. He was pretty sure he’d locked the door, but then again, it was hard to remember when yesterday had been so long ago.

“I picked the lock,” Goro said casually, taking a delicate sip of his coffee. Akira rubbed the back of his neck.

“Don’t tell Sojiro that,” he muttered.

“Actually, I did it out of consideration for him,” Goro pointed out. “My first instinct was to kick the door in.”

Akira snorted, pouring his own coffee and moving the sit on Goro’s right. “You could’ve knocked.”

Goro paused. “I wasn’t sure that you would be there to answer the door, Akira,” he said curtly. He drummed his fingers against his mug, a deep frown on his face. “Just… explain to me what was going through your mind, when you took that hit for me in Mementos. I know you’re not a complete idiot, so there must have been some reason you would make such a ridiculous decision.”

It took Akira a moment to even remember what Goro was talking about. He’d been distracted by his strange dream, and Goro’s sudden appearance in Leblanc, and his mind hadn’t been given the chance to catch up enough to remember exactly what had happened yesterday. “Oh. Right,” he said. He grinned, awkwardly. “What, you’re allowed to die for me but I can't die for you?”

Goro’s face twisted into what Akira could only describe as fury, before quickly settling back into its usual calm. He smiled in a way that made a shiver crawl down Akira’s spine. “Ah, I see. I was mistaken. You are just an idiot,” he said pleasantly. “Then let’s discuss exactly what it is you did, shall we? Instead of letting me die, guaranteeing a continuation of the time loop, you chose a route that would lead to completely unknown circumstances. Do you understand what would have happened if it had ended there?”

“Hold on, hold on. What on _earth_ are you guys talking about?!” Morgana interrupted loudly. Akira winced. He’d forgotten they had an audience; not just Morgana, but Futaba was probably listening in, too. “Because, I… I had this weird dream last night, and I don’t really remember what happened, but I think that you _died_ Akira, and I just… I’m so confused…”

Akira sighed, scratching Morgana behind the ears placatingly. “Morgana… there’s a lot I need to talk to you about. I think this probably involves you too, somehow,” he said. “But I need to talk to Goro alone for a bit, okay? I’ll catch you up on everything later.”

“Are you kidding me?!” Morgana wailed. “First you call him _Goro_ , and now you want to be _alone_ with him? Last time I checked this was the guy who tried to assassinate you!” Goro’s jaw clenched. Akira exhaled deeply.

“Please just trust me,” he said, for what felt like the thousandth time since the loop had begun.

Morgana only hesitated for a moment. “Fine,” he consented, like always. Akira wasn’t sure that he deserved the blind faith that his teammates always gave him unconditionally, but he was eternally grateful for it.

He waited until Morgana was out the door before tilting his head toward the stairs, gesturing for Goro to follow him back into the attic. “Bona fide Monafied,” he said on the way up, and his phone buzzed in response almost immediately.

_NOOOOO_

_I NEED TO KNOW WHAT’S GOING ON_

“Futaba,” Akira said flatly.

_you have sooo much explaining to do later mister_

_stop thinking with the wrong head_

Akira choked, throwing his phone onto his bed and shoving his hand in his pockets. “Um, okay,” he mumbled, moving to sit on the couch as Goro remained standing with his arms crossed. “So I guess this means my theory was wrong.”

Goro was quiet for several beats, tapping his foot frustratedly against the wood floor. “Yes. I had my suspicions about that,” he admitted after a moment. “Ever since I confirmed that you were the only one who was ever taken as collateral damage in my death, I started to think that maybe this wasn’t just about me, but about us. Which should have been obvious from the beginning, really, since we’re the only ones who this is happening to.”

Akira frowned. “So basically, you think that the loop is triggered by _either_ of us dying?” he asked. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I wasn’t willing to _test it_ ,” Goro snapped immediately. “I wasn’t planning on risking your permanent death on a theory, but yesterday you didn’t exactly give me a choice.”

Akira looked away, biting at his fingernails distractedly. “Look, I wasn’t thinking about any of that,” he muttered. “What happened yesterday… I just did it on instinct. That’s all.”

“I don’t believe you,” Goro said. Akira glanced up to meet his eyes.

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asked defensively. Goro didn’t answer, just held his eyes until Akira had to look away.

Akira knew, at that moment, that Goro could see right through him. That when he looked at Akira he saw the things that Akira tried to hide even from himself. Like the possibility that he _had_ considered the fact that the loop might end, if he died and Goro didn’t. Like maybe that was the reason why he’d done it.

“Would it have been such a bad thing?” Akira spoke up, quietly. “If it was either I die or we keep living this day over and over again forever… maybe I would’ve been willing to make that choice. You of all people should understand.”

Goro laughed coldly. “Oh, is that what you think I want to hear?” he asked. “That you’re willing to sacrifice yourself for my benefit? Am I supposed to be impressed?”

Akira scowled. “I don’t know what you want from me,” he said.

“I want you to stop acting like the hero, when in reality you’re just being selfish,” Goro said coldly. “If you want to die, fine, but don’t pretend it’s for me. That’s the absolute last thing I would ever want.”

Akira felt nauseous, suddenly. He stood up, his heart pounding frantically as he tried to swallow down the bile that had risen in his throat. “I’m not gonna let you guilt trip me for this. You’re such a hypocrite,” he snapped. “I’m sorry you can’t handle the fact that I might have died, but how the hell do you think I feel? Every single day for the past, what, seven months now? I’ve woken up terrified that it would be Monday, that your death would stick this time and you’d be gone forever. And when that happens it’ll be _my fault_ because even though I’ve had _seven months_ to figure out how to save you, I still have to watch you die every single day. What I did yesterday… it was worth it, okay? Even if I hadn’t woken back up, it would’ve been worth it. I know you’re never going to believe that someone cares enough about you to be willing to die for you, but I _do_ , Goro, and I would do it again.”

Goro was quiet for several moments, his arms still crossed stiffly and his face angled away from him. He looked uncomfortable, like he’d rather be doing anything else than having this conversation. “That’s how I justified it to myself, too,” he finally said, softly. “I did what I did in the engine room because you were worth more to me than my own life. That sounds heroic, right? But I was lying to myself. Dying for you… it was the easiest thing I’ve ever done. Finally getting to escape this fucking world that has hated me since the moment I was born, and doing it in the form of noble self-sacrifice… it was a pretty good deal. It was easy to convince myself otherwise, since it was you, but in all honesty I probably would have done it for anyone.”

Akira couldn’t help but wince visibly. “Good to know,” he said coldly. “Guess I should’ve expected that from the guy who tried to shoot me in the face after we spent months getting to know each other. Too bad unlike you I actually have human emotions.”

At that, Goro finally looked at him, his expression carefully neutral. “Akira,” he said. He sighed. “Yesterday… when you died, obviously my first thought was to die as well to ensure the loop. But then your cat told me that if I did that, you would never forgive me, and I knew that he was right. So I stayed alive even though I thought I might lose you forever. And it was by far the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

Akira blinked, caught completely off guard. His stomach clenched again. This whole time, he hadn’t even considered the difficult choice he’d put on both Goro and Morgana’s shoulders. It was unfathomable to him that Morgana was loyal to the extent that he’d convince _Goro_ , of all people, to survive, even if it meant Akira might die permanently, and even more so that Goro had listened. For all of his disapproval, he’d still gone to this lengths just to make sure Akira’s stupid, impulsive sacrifice wasn’t in vain.

He didn’t know how to handle that. He didn’t know what to say.

“Sorry, I know I’m being rather long-winded. It’s difficult for me to say things like this,” Goro continued when it was clear that Akira wasn’t going to reply. “What I’m getting at is that… I’m willing to live for you. I won’t ask you to return the sentiment, but at the very least, please don’t die for me again.”

Akira closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he said, and he hoped that Goro understood everything that he was apologizing for.

Goro approached him, suddenly, and Akira flinched instinctively when the other boy grabbed him around the waist and pulled him close. It took a few moments for the initial shock to wear off long enough for him to bring his arms up to wrap around Goro’s neck. “Don’t say anything,” Goro muttered. Akira laughed in disbelief.

“Are you hugging me?” he asked. “Did Goro Akechi just initiate a hug?”

“I _just_ told you not to… ugh,” Goro said exasperatedly, burying his face in Akira’s shoulder. “…I don’t know what I would’ve done, if.”

Akira tried to hide the way he was shaking, but he knew there was no way Goro couldn’t feel it. He exhaled deeply. “Sorry,” he said again.

Goro leaned back to look at him, his expression completely unreadable. Akira wasn’t sure who leaned in first, just that all at once their lips were pressed together feverishly, like they had been many times before at this point. But it was… different, somehow. It wasn’t the same rough, closed-off desperation that usually came off of Goro in waves. It was more like he was holding onto Akira like he was afraid he’d disappear if he let go.

For the first time, Akira considered the fact that maybe this was more than just using each other as a crutch to get through this bizarre world only they could understand. The thought scared him.

Goro pulled back, suddenly, and Akira had to restrain himself from whining. “Hey,” he said, and Akira realized they’d somehow ended up on the bed, Goro hovering over him and breathing heavily. “Let’s calm down for now.”

Akira blinked, mildly offended. “ _You_ don’t want to have sex?” he asked in confusion. He felt like their roles had reversed. Normally Goro would be more than enthusiastic to use sex as a distraction when difficult topics came up, but now Akira was the one who was desperate to put their mouths to better use. Goro rolled his eyes.

“A ridiculous question to ask an eighteen-year-old boy,” he said dryly. He ran a hand through Akira’s hair gently. “But there are still some things we need to discuss. And besides, Sojiro will be here to open Leblanc any minute.”

Akira sighed as Goro laid beside him on the bed, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Fine, prude,” he muttered. Goro snorted.

“Anyway, let’s go over the information we gathered in Mementos yesterday,” he continued, unperturbed. “It obviously didn’t go well, but I don’t think it was completely in vain.”

Akira nodded. “Yeah. I definitely sensed something down there,” he agreed. His breath caught as he suddenly remembered the dream he’d woken up from this morning. Had it even been a dream? It had felt as real and vivid as the Velvet Room did. “You know… this whole time I just assumed that whatever force is putting us through this had bad intentions. But the presence I felt in Mementos wasn’t aggressive, it was… I don’t know how to explain it. It was like it had expectations of us. Like… we’ve been living this day over and over because every time we do something wrong.”

Goro frowned. “Then the two of us had completely different experiences,” he said bluntly. “What I felt down there was undoubtedly malevolent. And no offense, but I’m inclined to trust my instinct, seeing as the Shadows targeted us like white blood cells to a virus.”

“Oh, right,” Akira said, suddenly remembering exactly what had occured before it all went black. “How did you even manage to get out of there alive?” Goro grimaced and looked away.

“They stopped,” he said. “After you… they stopped coming. Morgana and I left Mementos with no problems whatsoever. It was like they got what they wanted, and couldn’t be bothered anymore.”

Akira blinked slowly, staring up at the ceiling. “Huh,” he said.

“Yeah,” Goro replied. “I don’t know what any of this means. Something wants us dead, but only one of us, apparently. And it seems it doesn’t matter which. On top of that, if you’re right, we’re failing to accomplish something that has to be done within this day. Maybe the imminent death is punishment for not doing what we’re supposed to do?”

Akira massaged his temples and sighed. “Maybe,” he said. “It’s like going down there gave us more questions than answers.”

Goro hummed in agreement. “That’s true. But we know much more than we did before,” he pointed out. “I think we’re on the right track.”

Akira rolled onto his side, fixing Goro with a curious gaze. “I’m surprised that you’re putting so much thought into this,” he admitted. “I didn’t think you really cared.”

“I didn’t,” Goro agreed immediately. “I was prepared to live through this hell for eternity, honestly. But I told you, things are different now. I’m going to get past this day, and you’re coming with me.”

Akira closed his eyes and swallowed thickly. He wanted so badly to tell Goro he would live for him, too. It terrified him that he couldn’t get the words past his lips, couldn’t promise to value his own life, to even _try_. When had he become so far gone? 

“Was that a confession?” he asked cheekily, forcing a grin and desperately wishing Goro would stop looking at him like he could read every thought in his mind. He expected him to roll his eyes or say something snarky in reply, but instead, the other boy just stared at him with a carefully neutral expression.

“Ask me again tomorrow,” he asked calmly. Akira’s breath caught, and he found he didn’t have anything else to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT i feel really bad about how long this chap took esp because i WAS WORKING ON IT but i had no way to like communicate that to you guys so i've decided to make a twitter account specifically for my writing! follow @hinatajimes where i'll post progress updates and you can bug me if i'm taking too long heh


	11. Chapter 11

“Woah. You’re looking kind of rough,” Futaba told him casually as she took a seat beside him at the counter. Akira buried his face deeper into his arms and grunted. “Hangover?”

“Think carefully before you answer that,” Sojiro said, pointing a ladle at him threateningly. Akira rolled his eyes.

“I’m just tired,” he said unconvincingly. Morgana hopped up on the chair beside him.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” he asked cheekily. “Aren’t you two usually glued to each other’s side?”

_I don’t know, last time I saw him he was getting hit by a car right in front of me_ was Akira’s immediate first thought, a wave of nausea washing over him at the memory from yesterday. The knowledge that Goro was alive again today would never be enough to wipe that from his mind. After a moment, though, he realized that he should have greater concerns with what Morgana just said. 

He lifted his head slowly and gave the cat a careful look. “What are you talking about?” he asked.

“Which boyfriend?” Futaba interjected, unperturbed. “Yusuke?” Akira swatted at her with a scowl.

“I only have—” he started, before quickly stopping in his tracks. “I mean, I don’t have _any_ boyfriends. Morgana, who are you talking about?”

Morgana didn’t reply for several moments, tilting his head in thought. “Um… you know what? I don’t really know,” he admitted, sounding a bit flustered. “I’m not sure why I said that.”

“Whaa? You guys are totally keeping secrets!” Futaba accused, slamming her hands on the counter. She reached over and pinched Morgana’s cheeks threateningly. “Tell me who Akira’s boyfriend is!”

Morgana hissed and swatted at her hand. “I-I really don’t know!” he said, clearly confused. “I just… I feel like there’s someone missing who’s usually with him, but I don’t know who it could be…”

Akira frowned. “Morgana, we really need to talk,” he said, nodding his head toward the door. Futaba looked ready to complain, so he cut her off before she could. “Wanna go for a walk? You can come too, Futaba.”

The streets of Yongen were deserted; due to the cold weather, supposedly, along with the fact that they were never very crowded to began with. He could feel Morgana and Futaba’s curious gazes on him, but he wasn’t sure where to start. “Well…?” Morgana asked tentatively. “Is everything alright? You’re making me nervous.”

Akira sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s… uh, Goro Akechi,” he explained. “That’s who you were thinking of before, right?”

“ _Akechi_ is your boyfriend?!” Futaba squawked.

Morgana came to a halt, pausing in thought. “Huh. Yeah. I guess so,” he said quizzically. “But why…? Maybe I just got used to him being at Leblanc?”

Akira knelt down beside the cat, fixing him with a serious gaze. “No, that’s not it,” he said. “You remember, don’t you? At least a little bit. You know that Goro is usually here on this day, because we’ve lived it hundreds of times.”

Morgana didn’t say anything for a long time, staring at Akira with wide eyes. “Uh… what?” Futaba asked flatly. She gave him a weird look. “Maybe Yusuke was right, you are losing it…”

Akira chose to ignore that comment. “Goro and I are stuck in a time loop. We have been for a long time. You know what I’m saying is true, right?” he asked. Morgana hesitated, before nodding once. “I thought so.”

“I… I don’t remember anything, but I just _know_ ,” Morgana said with a groan. “I’m getting flashes of you and Akechi and… Mementos?”

“Wait, wait, hold on. You’re serious? You’re living an real life Groundhog’s Day Episode?” Futaba asked excitedly. “Dude, no _way_. How long has this been going on? And you said _Akechi_ is in on it too?”

Akira nodded. “It’s been at least six months,” he said tiredly. “Every day one of us dies, and then the loop resets. It’s usually him.”

The fascination quickly melted from Futaba’s features. “…That’s pretty messed up, huh?” she asked. She scratched her cheek. “Uh… I’m gonna need a minute to take all of this in, but are you like, okay?”

“Yeah,” Akira replied, probably too quickly. He wasn’t going to let this conversation get sidetracked. “We’re handling it. Anyway, I need to ask you something, Morgana. About Mementos, and where you came from.”

Morgana blinked slowly. “I… don’t remember…” he said, sounding conflicted.

“But you did,” Akira said urgently. “A few loops ago we went to the depths, and there was this Quarantine Cell there. You said that’s where you were born. Ring any bells?”

“I…” Morgana muttered, squinting in concentration. “Cell… that’s right. There was a cell. Maybe lots of cells. Um… there was a blue light? Agh, I don’t remember! Why can’t I remember?”

Akira stood up quickly, immediately getting all of the answers he was looking for from that small bit of information. He’d had his suspicions about the Velvet Room and its inhabitants for a while now. There were several reasons why he had yet to go there, though: first of all, Goro couldn’t come with him. Second of all, and most importantly, he didn’t trust Igor at all. He could barely get a coherent sentence out of the strange man most of the time, let alone any answers.

Caroline and Justine were a different story, though. He didn’t mind talking to them; had tried, in fact, but immediately given up when Caroline didn’t seem to be aware of the time loop. He’d just have to try again. They were running out of options, and he knew that whatever was on the other side of that Quarantine Cell was important. If Morgana connected it with the Velvet Room somehow, it was worth looking into.

“Thanks,” he said, scratching Morgana behind the ears. “That’s all I needed to know.”

“So… what now?” Futaba asked. “What’s the plan? You obviously can’t just live like this forever.”

Akira rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. “Goro and I are working on it,” he said, ignoring the simultaneous _Goro?!_ from his companions. “It’s nothing you guys need to worry about. You’ve both helped me a lot already, even if you don’t remember.”

Futaba blew her bangs out of her face with a frown. “I’d totally love to buy the _I’m fine, don’t worry_ thing you’re going for here,” she said. “But I don’t think you realize how awful you look right now. You’re not okay, dude.”

Akira stopped walking. “Okay. And?” he asked, lifting a shoulder casually. Futaba and Morgana stared at him incredulously. “What do you want me to say?”

“Akira… you can’t expect us not to be concerned about what you just told us,” Morgana piped up. “There has to be something we can do. We’re here to help each other, remember?”

Akira smiled grimly. “There isn’t,” he said. “You won’t even remember this tomorrow.”

“Look… I’m the last person who should be giving you advice, but uh, take it from me,” Futaba said, scuffing her shoe against the pavement awkwardly. “Bottling everything up inside is the worst possible thing you can do. You should talk to someone.”

Akira felt his stomach drop. This conversation was getting dangerously close to something he didn’t want to even remotely consider. He forced out a chuckle. “I appreciate it, but this isn’t like that at all. It’s nowhere near what you went through,” he said. “I promise I’m okay. If I needed help, I… I would tell you.”

The flat look Futaba gave him reminded him so much of Goro that his mind instantaneously came up with a horrible theory about her unknown father. He shook off the thought before it could fully develop. “Right. I forgot you’re so forthcoming with your feelings,” she said dryly. She sighed. “Fine, I’ll pretend I believe you. But… if all of this is actually happening, then like you said, me and Morgana and everyone else won’t remember any of this tomorrow. So uh, as much as it kills me to say this, considering it’s _him_ … maybe you should talk to the person who will.”

Akira almost laughed. “Sure. I’ll do that,” he lied through his teeth.

 

“We have to go back to Mementos,” Akira said drowsily, lifting his arm from where it was thrown over his eyes and glancing at Goro on the futon beside him. Goro didn’t look back at him, but his finger paused in its scrolling through his phone.

“No,” he replied simply. That was pretty much the response Akira had been expecting.

“Hm. Didn’t realize I needed your permission,” Akira continued casually, rolling onto his side and letting his hand come to a rest on Goro’s bare torso. Goro set his phone down and side-eyed him.

“Well, you do. Glad we cleared that up,” he said, smiling sweetly. “I’m stronger than you and can physically stop you if I must.”

Akira snorted, moving his thumb in circles near Goro’s navel. “Who was it that won the first time we fought in the engine room again?” he asked, trying to make light of a situation that had definitely not been funny. Goro looked affronted.

“You and your _six teammates_ ,” he scoffed. Before Akira could react, Goro moved from his relaxed position to pin Akira to the ground, his hands firm on his shoulders. Akira let of a huff as the wind was unexpectedly knocked out of him. “What was it you were saying?”

“…That was kind of hot,” Akira said flatly, his breath shallowing from Goro’s weight on his chest. He glanced down. Goro had put his pants back on when they were done, but Akira hadn’t bothered, so they were separated only by the thin material of Goro’s sweats. “If you wanted to go again you could’ve just asked.”

Goro smiled threateningly, and Akira didn’t know whether he was more scared or turned on. “Akira? Be quiet,” he said pleasantly. “Stop trying to change the subject. We’re not going back to Mementos, we’ll just get overwhelmed with Shadows and killed again.”

“If you’d let me finish,” Akira continued calmly, still pinned down. “I didn’t mean the Depths, just the entrance. I need to talk to the twins.”

Goro was unphased. “You don’t have to go to Mementos to do that,” he pointed out.

Akira recalled his previous conversation with Caroline, and sighed. “The one in Mementos is… easier to deal with,” he explained. “This is important. I think they might have the answer to what was in that Quarantine Cell.”

Goro exhaled slowly, finally lifting his weight off of Akira. “I’d rather we didn’t go anywhere near there,” he said. “But… I did notice something about the twins, the last time. I think that the aggressive one remembered meeting us in Akihabara.”

Akira blinked. “Really?” he asked. “Are you sure?”

“No, I’m not,” Goro confirmed, still casually straddling Akira as he tapped his chin in thought. “But she made a comment about how I looked different. And if you recall…”

“Your hair was shorter,” Akira said, immediately realizing where Goro was going with this. “The loop when we met her in Akihabara was the one when I cut your hair.” Goro nodded.

“Right,” he said. “I suppose it’s worth looking into. But if anything starts to go wrong, we’re leaving immediately, understand?”

Akira smirked. “Yes sir,” he said, wriggling a bit beneath him. “So, uh…”

Goro glanced down at him, his expression blank. Then, all at once, he placed his hands on either side of Akira’s head and lowered himself so that their faces were centimeters apart. “Akira,” he said quietly. When he pressed their lips together, it was much softer than the frantic, desperate kisses they’d shared a half an hour or so prior. Akira laced his fingers through his long hair and sighed into his mouth. When Goro pulled away, he had a conflicted look on his face. “It’s 7pm.”

The mood immediately darkened, and Akira felt any excitement or playfulness he’d felt a moment ago drain from him like a plug had been pulled. Goro moved off of him, and Akira sat up, running a shaky hand through his hair. “Fuck,” he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut. It was just so _unfair_. He turned to Goro with a determined expression. “Let me do it today.”

“No,” Goro said, his voice low.

Akira frowned. “Okay, you’re not actually in charge of me,” he pointed out flatly. “We know now that it can be either of us, so there’s no reason it has to be you every day. Let me do it.”

Goro fixed him with a firm glance, his eyes flashing in a way Akira hadn’t seen since the first time in the engine room. “Absolutely not. We’re done talking about this,” he said. “Go home, Akira. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You’ve had to die hundreds of times,” Akira said, hearing himself getting emotional but unable to stop it. “And every time it could’ve been me instead, but I just let you take the fall. Can’t you just… let me make up for that? Please?”

Goro grimaced, standing up and pulling his shirt on. “I’m tired of constantly arguing with you,” he said tiredly. “Just listen to me for once so it doesn’t have to turn into an altercation. You’re right, I’ve died hundreds of times, so changing that now isn’t going to make a difference. Stop overreacting.”

“Fine, I get it. You really do see yourself as that much stronger than me,” Akira said bitterly, throwing his words from earlier back at him. “You think you can handle it and I can’t.”

“Oh, stop feeling sorry for yourself,” Goro said coldly. “It has nothing to do with that.”

Akira grit his teeth. “Then _why_?”

“Dammit, Akira,” Goro said, scrubbing a hand over his face and grimacing like his own words pained him. “I can’t let you die because I think that you _want_ to.”

Akira felt his stomach drop, his hearing dissolving to white noise as panic gripped him almost instantly. He opened his mouth several times to respond, but he couldn’t get any words to come out. He couldn’t even breathe. “What?” he managed to force out, his head spinning. Having this conversation with Yusuke had been bad enough, he couldn’t do it with _Goro_. 

Goro looked away, his expression troubled. “I’m sorry. I should’ve brought this up with you sooner, but it isn’t an easy topic for me,” he said grimly. “And I doubt I can even be of any help.”

“What are you talking about?” Akira asked sharply, his heart pounding in his ears.

Goro hesitated for a long time. “I told you you reminded me of my mother,” he said quietly. He crossed his arms. “Don’t play dumb, you aren’t even subtle. We frequently see each other with our clothes off, and I know you didn’t think I would fail to notice.”

Akira felt like he was going to throw up. He instinctively hid his wrists under the covers, even though he had no reason to do so on this particular day. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “That’s… it’s not what you think,” he said, forcing himself to stay calm. “It just makes me feel better. You have cigarettes and sex, I have this. It’s not a big deal.”

“I’m not going to argue or lecture you. I know it would be hypocritical if I did,” Goro responded. “All I know was that this is how it started with my mother, and then she was gone, forever. I can’t… I can’t lose the only person who’s important to me like that again. I _can’t_. The last time it nearly drove me insane.”

Akira swallowed thickly. He looked down at his hands, Futaba’s words from earlier coming back to him. _Maybe you should talk to the person that will_.

“I just… want it to be over. All of it,” he admitted quietly. “Sometimes I just want to disappear.” Goro didn’t respond for a long time.

He sat back down beside Akira on the futon, pulling his legs to his chest and resting his chin on them. “You know I can‘t be of any help with something like this. I’m… I don’t know if you’re aware, but my emotional stability is nonexistent,” he said with a sigh. Akira snorted. “Anyone else would be able to comfort you or give you advice. I’m sorry that you’re stuck with me.”

Akira let his head rest against Goro’s shoulder and closed his eyes. “I’m not,” he replied.

 

The first thing Akira noticed when the real world dissolved around them into Mementos was that it was quiet. Much less restless than it had been the last time, and the strange feeling he’d had that had pulled him all the way the the Quarantine Cell had disappeared completely. It made him uneasy for reasons he couldn’t explain.

“That’s strange,” Goro spoke up, pocketing his phone after the Nav app had done its job. “I was expecting to feel the same aggressive force as before. Last time, it started the moment I entered Mementos, but now I’m not sensing anything at all.”

Akira nodded. “I’m not either,” he agreed. Goro turned to him, his eyes widening behind his red mask as he did so.

“Joker,” he said. “Your clothes.”

Akira looked down to see that he was, in fact, still in the sweats he’d been wearing before they entered the Metaverse. That was new. Mementos wasn’t like Palaces, where their threat level varied, they had always been seen as a threat by the general public from the very first time they’d entered. “Huh,” Akira said, trying to ignore the bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. “That’s weird.”

Goro frowned. “Something is off,” he said. “Let’s just hurry and get this over with as quickly as possible.” Akira nodded. He couldn’t agree more.

When they descended the stairs and turned the corner onto the main platform, Akira immediately froze in his tracks. He felt his heart leap into his throat at he stared at the scene before him. “What?” Goro hissed as he nearly ran into him. “That room is just over there, isn’t it? I can't see it this time.”

Akira let out a shaky breath. “Yeah, uh,” he said, approaching the area where he’d spoken to Justine hundreds of times now. “Neither can I.”

For the first time since Akira had first entered Mementos all of those months ago, there was no glowing blue door waiting for him. The Velvet Room was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hopefully i’m back to updating within a somewhat reasonable time frame for good :D


	12. Chapter 12

They were at a standstill.

Other than attempting to brave Mementos again, the Velvet Room was the only lead they had. And it was gone. Akira could _feel_ its absence like a phantom limb, like it had disappeared completely and taken a part of him with it. His dreams were no longer tinged in blue, he no longer felt the thrum of energy under his skin that served as a constant reminder that he had been chosen, that he was _special_. It was completely and utterly gone, like it had never even existed in the first place.

Goro had been uncharacteristically silent about the whole thing. Seeing as he was possibly the most opinionated person Akira had ever met, it struck him as odd that he seemed to have nothing to say. He hadn’t brought up the Velvet Room since they’d discovered its absence, and they’d spent a good week’s worth of Sundays doing nothing of importance whatsoever. They would hang out at Leblanc or Goro’s place, get something to eat, fuck, and say their goodbyes without even arguing. It was strange, but not unwelcome.

Akira was fine with them not bringing it up for the time being. Or ever.

They continued that same mundane repetition for some time, until one day, when Akira could tell that something was off from the moment Goro walked into Leblanc. He drank his coffee with a carefully neutral expression, barely speaking up as Akira explained to Sojiro and Futaba for the two-hundredth time that he wasn’t a threat. Akira waited until the cafe was empty and the Sakuras were reasonably distracted before gesturing for Goro to follow him into the backmost booth.

“What’s up?” Akira asked softly. Goro didn’t look at him, just tapped distractedly on his coffee cup with gloved fingers. Akira had noticed he’d been dressing much more like his old self lately, complete with the gloves and pea coat. There were, of course, still days where he would stay in his sweats and never leave his apartment except to smoke, but those days were becoming increasingly few and far-between. It was clear that he was trying. As relieved as he was, it was hard for Akira to comprehend the fact that he was trying so hard for _him_. “Something’s bothering you.”

Goro exhaled slowly. “I keep wondering about Shido,” he admitted. “We assume the change of heart carried through, but… we haven’t seen any evidence to support it. We don’t usually hear from him on this day unless we actively seek him out.”

Akira hummed in understanding. “You want to go see him?” he guessed. Goro grimaced.

“No. I don’t know,” he said flatly. He closed his eyes. “I didn’t think I wanted to. I don’t… I don’t _care_ if he’s changed, or what he has to say, it’s not like I’m going to forgive him regardless. But… ugh.”

“It’s okay,” Akira said. Goro sighed.

“How annoying. My life has revolved around my hatred of him for so long that I don’t even know how to move past it,” he said bitterly, gripping his cup tightly. “I never want to see his miserable face again, but… if I don’t…”

Akira nodded, reaching out to let the tips of his fingers rest against Goro’s. Goro stared at their hands with an unreadable expression. “I get it,” Akira assured. “I’ll come with you, okay?”

Goro hesitated, before exhaling slowly and giving him a stiff nod. “Okay,” he agreed.

It took another few hours for Goro to work up the courage to make the phone call. They sat on the floor of Akira’s attic, Goro’s phone between them, talking about whatever mundane topic Goro would bring up to distract them from the situation. Every so often his hand would twitch toward the phone, like he was finally going to go for it, but then it would settle anxiously back at his side and he would pretend like it never happened.

“We don’t have to do it today,” Akira finally suggested, and Goro glowered at him, like he was offended Akira dared to bring up the topic he was avoiding. “I mean… _this_ today. We have plenty of time.”

“Shut up,” Goro snapped, his arm tensing as he finally reached for his phone. He held it for several moments, before dialing one of his most recent calls and putting it on speaker. He dropped the phone back on the floor like it had burned him.

It rang several times, and just as Akira was trying to come up with what to say in the event that he didn’t pick up, the line came alive with a _click_.

“ _Goro_ ,” the staticky voice said, sounding almost relieved. Akira felt a flash of raw hatred pulse through him.

Goro looked like he was barely restraining himself from breaking the phone in half. “Don’t call me that,” he hissed. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I need to talk to you.”

“ _Yes, I agree. We should talk,_ ” Shido said eagerly. “ _Why don’t we meet somewhere? We can get dinner._ ”

Goro laughed sardonically. “Are you joking?” he asked between clenched teeth. “I’ll meet you at your office. Make sure your security knows that I’m coming, and that I’ll be accompanied by the leader of the Phantom Thieves.”

Shido didn’t respond for several long moments. “ _That boy is still alive?_ ” he asked tentatively. He let out a sigh of relief. “ _Thank goodness._ ”

Akira felt anger rip through him, so hot and vicious it was like he’d swallowed molten metal. For the first time ever, the thought crossed his mind that maybe he should’ve let Goro shoot this man after all. He deserved far worse than the mercy they’d given him.

“Fuck you,” Goro said, his voice unnaturally calm in a way that told Akira he was barely holding it together. “We’ll be there this afternoon.”

Goro stared at his phone for a few moments after hanging up, before suddenly standing up and throwing it at the wall with all of his strength. Akira winced at the sound it made as it shattered into pieces.

The uncomfortable silence was almost immediately broken by the sound of frantic steps toward the stairs. “Akira? The hell is going on up there?” Sojiro called up, clearly shaken. Akira groaned. He already didn’t trust Goro; he’d probably jumped to the conclusion that they were fighting to the death or something. “Need me to come up?”

“No, sorry, everything’s fine,” Akira reassured, watching as Goro moved to sit on the couch and put his head in his hands. “Knocked something off my shelf.”

Sojiro sighed in obvious relief. “Be more careful,” he grumbled. “I have customers.”

Goro was quiet for several long moments. He took a deep breath. “Sorry,” he muttered once Sojiro had gone. “That might have been a bit overdramatic.”

Akira snorted. “It’s better that you get it out now, I guess,” he said with a shrug. “Not that I would be opposed to you throwing it at Shido’s head next time.”

Goro glanced up at him, a small half-smile tugging at his mouth and lightly crinkling the corner of his eyes. Akira felt his breath catch. That might have been the first time he’d ever seen Goro Akechi genuinely smile. “Noted,” he said, standing up again and brushing himself off. “Well, I suppose we should prepare for the confrontation.

Akira eyed him carefully. “Are you ready for this?” he asked. Goro sighed.

“I’ve been waiting my whole life for this,” he said.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Akira pointed out. Goro just shrugged in reply.

 

He spent the entire train ride to Shido’s office preparing himself for Goro’s imminent nervous breakdown. By the time they got to the elevator, the other boy was standing so stiffly that Akira wondered if he was even breathing. His hands were clenched tightly into fists, and his jaw was clenched so hard that Akira could see his muscles twitch. “Goro…” he started hesitantly.

“Shut up,” Goro snapped. “If you ask me if I’m okay again I’ll kill you.”

They paused outside of the office door for several long, tense moments, Goro closing his eyes and taking a deep breath as Akira glared daggers at the name on the plaque. “Do you want me to wait out here?” he asked.

Goro’s attention snapped to him, his eyes wide. “No?” he said weakly. He cleared his throat. “Come with me… please.”

“Okay. Of course,” Akira replied immediately with a nod. Goro exhaled slowly.

“Okay,” he repeated. He paused for a few more moments, before finally reaching out for the handle and opening the door.

The Goro who stepped into that room was a completely different person than the one who was standing outside of it. All of the nervousness and anxiety disappeared at once, and it was replaced by a sharp, flat expression as he looked down at Shido. Like he was looking at a bug on the sidewalk, or a piece of gum stuck to his shoe.

Akira felt something well up inside of him. Maybe it was pride.

“Shido,” Goro said, his tone carefully emotionless. Shido quickly stood up from his desk chair.

“Goro,” he replied with a nod. “I… there’s so much I want to say to—”

“You will call me _Akechi_ ,” Goro hissed, cutting him off. “That’s the name of the pregnant woman you abandoned and left to rot, remember that? Or is she just another name on a long list of people who mean nothing to you?”

Shido grimaced. “No, I, of course I remember…” he said. “G— Akechi, I know you must resent me, but I think that we should—”

“Be quiet,” Goro cut him off sharply. “I didn’t come here to listen to you, I don’t care what you have to say. For once in your life you’re going to shut up and listen, understand?”

Shido stiffened, but eventually bowed his head in compliance. “Go on,” he said.

Goro glanced at Akira briefly, as if making sure he was still there. Akira nodded once. Goro let out a deep breath. “We beat you, you know. We’re the reason that guilt is eating you alive at this very moment,” he said evenly. “Most of my life, that’s all I ever wanted. It was, of course, my intention to do it in a much more extreme and publicly humiliating fashion, but that’s beside the point now. I just wanted you to feel the consequences of your actions. I couldn’t stand the thought of you living your life freely while my mother was _dead_ because of you.”

Shido closed his eyes. “Yes. You won. I’m getting exactly what I deserve for what I did to your mother, and you, and countless others,” he said defeatedly. “I am so, so sorry. I just… I hope one day you can find it in your heart to forgive me. After all, G— Akechi, you’re my so—”

“No I’m not,” Goro cut him off again, his voice low. “I am the son of Akechi Kame and her alone. I haven’t had a father from the moment I was born. It’s funny, all this time I’ve been _obsessed_ with you, with the idea of you acknowledging me and looking at me in that pathetic way you are now. But now that I’ve finally done it… I just don’t care. I don’t care about you at all.”

The room fell into silence for several moments. Akira noticed Goro’s hand shaking slightly at his side, and it took all of his restraint not to reach over and take it into his. “It doesn’t have to be that way,” Shido said, pleadingly. “I can make up for what I’ve done.”

Goro paused, before smiling one of his glowing media smiles, closing his eyes and tilting his head to the side. “Whether or not that’s true, I won’t be around to see it,” he said pleasantly. “That’s what I came here today to tell you. From the moment I walk out of this room, I’m never going to think about you again.I’m going to build a life for myself and never once consider your opinion of me, or what might have been different if you hadn’t left me behind. You will never be my father, or the prime minister of Japan, or a decent human being. You’re nothing. And I should count myself lucky that you were a pathetic deadbeat, because I’m so much better off without you.”

If Akira was being honest, his prediction for how this confrontation would go was that he would eventually have to hold Akechi back from killing Shido. He hadn’t even remotely expected _this_. All this time they’d been together, and Akira hadn’t even noticed that transformation that was happening within this boy right in front of his eyes.

The Goro Akechi standing in front of him wasn’t the same one who had stood across from him in the engine room all that time ago. Akira was so proud of him it made is heart wrench.

“Let’s go, Akira,” Goro said calmly, not even looking back at Shido as he turned back toward the door. Akira shot the pathetic, broken man in front of him one last look, before following him out.

Goro maintained his composure the entire way out of the building. It wasn’t until they were back on the sidewalk that he grasped at Akira’s shoulder for support, his legs nearly giving out from under him. “Hey, hey. It’s okay,” Akira said, slightly alarmed by how hard Goro was shaking. “Goro, it’s okay. You did it. It’s over.”

Goro shook his head and covered his face with a gloved hand, taking several deep, shaky breaths as Akira held him. He didn’t speak for a long time, and when he did, it was more watery than he would ever admit. “What am I supposed to do now?” he asked quietly.

Akira reached over to tuck his hair behind his ear. “Exactly what you told him you were going to do,” he said. Goro laughed once, but it came out as more of a choked sob. Akira grinned at him. “Goro, that was amazing. You’re amazing.”

Goro finally removed his hand and looked up at him, his eyes red-rimmed. Akira realized with a start that even after all this time and everything they’d been through, he’d never once seen the other boy cry. “I hope you know that I never would have been able to do that if it wasn’t for you,” he said, his voice quiet. Akira immediately shook his head in protest.

“That’s not… I didn’t do _anything_ ,” he argued. “That was all you. You’ve always been this strong all by yourself.”

Goro stared at him for several long moments, before laughing once; a low, sad sound. “I wish you could see yourself the way that I see you,” he said. “Meeting you is the most important thing that ever could have happened to me.”

Akira didn’t know how to respond to that. Couldn’t, even if he wanted to, because all of the air had suddenly left his lungs. Goro glanced down at his watch casually. “Anyway, that’s enough of that. Let’s get back to my place while we still have time,” he continued. He sighed and looked away. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

They took the train back to Goro’s place in silence. Goro seemed distracted by his thoughts, and Akira was… on edge, for reasons he couldn’t explain. He knew that everything would change after today, that they were no longer going back to the mundane pattern they’d lazily fallen into over the past couple of loops. He could feel it heavily in the air between them.

Goro rounded on him the moment he closed the door of his apartment. He had the same determined expression on his face that he’d had in Shido’s office, and Akira felt his blood freeze all at once. His skin was itching, suddenly. He just wanted to crawl away and hide.

“What’s up?” Akira asked calmly, attempting to hide the way his heart was pounding against his ribcage.

Goro sighed. “I knew I couldn’t have this conversation with you until I confronted Shido,” he explained. “If I couldn’t face the parts of myself that were easier to just ignore, then I couldn’t expect the same from you.”

Akira took a step back, feeling the blood drain from his face. “Stop,” he said, his voice breaking. “I don’t know what you’re—”

“Akira,” Goro cut him off firmly. “You do know. You know exactly what I’m talking about, and we _both_ know we can’t ignore this any longer.”

“Why?!” Akira asked, his voice rising frantically. “Who are you to decide that? I… you’re just making assumptions, I don’t even…”

Akira trailed off, blood rushing to his ears as Goro reached over and picked Akira’s phone up from where he’d placed it on the counter. He let out a long, slow exhale. “Please,” he said, his voice barely coming out as more than a whisper. “Don’t do this. Not yet, I _can’t_.”

The look Goro gave him was one that he’d only seen on the other boy’s features once before. It was in the engine room, the first time, right before that watertight door rose up and separated them for what Akira thought for sure was forever. His eyes had been a bit sad, maybe even the slightest bit regretful, but more than that they were fiercely determined. Like he knew that what he was doing was right, regardless of the consequences.

He lifted the phone up to his mouth and muttered two words. “Akira Kurusu.”

_Candidate found._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if goro could’ve just had a little bit more time with akira and exposure to someone who actually cared about him in the game i know he would’ve developed like this :’( but atlus crushed my dreams and that’s why we have fanfiction


	13. Chapter 13

“Soo, uh,” Ryuji said, scuffing his socked toe against the hardwood floor. “Everything okay?”

Akira looked up at him from where he was sitting at the kotatsu, flipping through the book he’d borrowed from the library ages ago without really reading it. “Yeah?” he replied, confused. “Why?”

Ryuji rubbed the back of his neck and sat across from him. “Dude, not that I mind or anything, but when you show up at my house at 8 a.m. and ask to hang I’m gonna assume something’s up,” he said pointedly. Akira twirled at his bangs.

“Sorry,” he said, glancing at Ryuji’s obvious bedhead and pajamas. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“Wha… no, that’s fine, that’s not the issue,” Ryuji said exasperatedly. He sighed. “Well, whatever. I guess you’d tell me if it was serious. Wanna play some Mario Kart or something?”

Akira grinned. “Only if you’re ready to get your ass kicked,” he said, narrowly dodging the pillow Ryuji threw at him.

So, maybe Akira was avoiding his problems. He didn’t know what else to do. Goro was _relentless_ , and he was never going to drop the subject no matter how much Akira begged and deflected. He obviously couldn’t hide from him forever, but he could sure as hell try.

“Aww, dude, come on!” Ryuji whined. “You totally backed out of first so I’d get hit with the blue shell!”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Akira said casually, passing Ryuji’s Yoshi as he spun out and gliding over the finish line. He put the controller down and lounged back on his hands, sending Ryuji a smirk. “Cat Peach wins again.”

Ryuji groaned and put his controller down much less gracefully. “Why the hell d’you always play as Cat Peach anyway,” he grumbled. “Weirdo.”

“Because she’s unstoppable,” Akira replied without hesitation. He laid back on the tatami and put his hands behind his head. “I would trust her with my life.”

Ryuji rolled his eyes and shoved at Akira’s knee. He paused for a moment, before flopping down to lay beside him. “Been a while since we hung out like this, huh?” he said. “I kinda miss the old days, before everyone in Tokyo demanded your attention.”

Akira chuckled once. “I kinda miss that too,” he said quietly. He turned to Ryuji. “Sorry.” Ryuji waved him off.

“Nah, man, don’t apologize,” he said. “I get it. You’ve got a lot on your plate. Not just with all the people you hang out with, but with what’s going on with Shido, too.”

Akira flipped back to face the ceiling again. “Yeah,” he said.

“Can’t say I’m not a little worried,” Ryuji said with a shaky laugh. “This one’s, like… pretty huge, y’know? You think everything’s gonna turn out okay?”

Of course, Ryuji didn’t know the magnitude of what he was asking. He thought their biggest problem was still changing Shido’s heart. And no matter what Akira said, he wouldn’t be able to make him understand. Not in a way that mattered. “I don’t know,” he said honestly.

Ryuji snorted. “Real encouraging there, leader,” he said, nudging Akira playfully. “You’re supposed to reassure me that we’ll win like we always do.”

Akira smiled tightly. “I know,” he said. “My bad.”

Ryuji’s response was interrupted by a sudden knock at the door, so loud and frantic that they both jumped up in alarm. “The hell…?” Ryuji said standing up and approaching the door hesitantly.

“Ryujiiiii!” a familiar voice called from the other side of the door. Ryuji untensed immediately and let out an exasperated groan. “Open up right now if you’re not dead!”

Ryuji rolled his eyes and threw the door open. “What are you talking about?” he snapped. “Why the eff is everyone showing up at my house unannounced today?”

Ann pushed the door open and walked in, shoving her phone in his face. “It _would have_ been announced if you’d answered your phone!” she snapped back. “I’ve been trying to reach you and Akira both all morning!”

“Sorry,” Akira said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I left my phone at home.”

Ann’s attention snapped to him, noticing his presence for the first time. “Oh, thank god, you’re here,” she said, letting out a deep breath. “I was about to drag Ryuji out to search Tokyo for you.”

“What’s with the dramatics?” Ryuji asked. “Wanna start making sense?”

Ann shifted awkwardly, twirling one of her pigtails around her finger. “Um, okay, don’t freak out,” she muttered. Ryuji sighed.

“What did you do,” he asked flatly.

Ann rolled her eyes. “Oh, shut up,” she said, pushing him out of the way and addressing Akira instead. “I… kind of ran into Akechi this morning.”

Akira let out a deep, long-suffering sigh. “Ah,” he replied.

“You _what?!_ ” Ryuji screeched. “Where? Why? That murdering bastard has some _nerve_ showing his face after what he did.” Ann chewed on her thumbnail agitatedly and looked away.

“It was weird,” she continued. “I was just at the underground mall and he came up to me… I _freaked_ out of course, I actually thought he was there to kill me for a minute, but then he just started talking to me all casually and I was _pissed_. So I tried to tell him off for being, y’know, a _psycho_ , but then he… he started asking about you, Akira. He asked if I knew where you were, and he said that I should check on you because you might be in trouble.”

Ryuji gaped at her. “Wh… he’s supposed to think Akira’s _dead_!” he said in alarmed confusion. “He shot him in the face and now he’s worried about him being in trouble?! You didn’t tell him anything, did you?”

“Of course not!” Ann said indignantly. “I told him to get lost and ran away. But then I tried to call you a bunch of times, and you didn’t answer, so I got worried… like, if he knew you were alive, maybe he got to you for real this time or something.”

Akira scrubbed a hand over his face. “He followed you here,” he said defeatedly.

Ann and Ryuji both froze. “W-what?!” Ann said in alarm. “How do you know?”

“I know him,” Akira said tiredly, pulling on his coat. Ryuji turned to Ann accusingly.

“You dumbass,” he said with a scowl. “Why the hell would you come straight to Akira when you knew the enemy was on your tail?”

“I didn’t even know Akira was here!” Ann argued back, looking flustered. “Wh-what do we do?”

Akira shrugged. “Nothing,” he said. “I’ll go talk to him.”

“WHAT?!” Ryuji and Ann yelled at the same time.

“Um, dude, you can’t do that! He’s an assassin! He tried to kill you!” Ryuji said anxiously.

“At the very least, you can’t go _alone_!” Ann added. “We’ll come with you! Or maybe we should even call the police…”

Akira sighed and shook his head. “No, it’s okay, we… he already knew I was alive,” he loosely explained. “I’ve talked to him before now. He’s not gonna hurt me.”

“Uh?!” Ryuji exclaimed.

“Wha… I don’t even know what’s happening anymore,” Ann despaired. Akira gave them a small smile.

“Thanks for worrying,” he said. “But I promise it’s fine. You guys just wait up here, I’ll be back soon.”

Ryuji shook his head. “If he kills you, I’m gonna be so pissed,” he warned.

Akira took his time walking down the stairs of Ryuji’s apartment building. There was something bubbling under his skin that he couldn’t quite identify, but he was pretty sure it was either dread or rage. Probably a little bit of both. He hated that Goro made him feel that way, when before now he’d been pretty much the only comfort Akira had. He hated everything about this situation.

He stepped out of the lobby and immediately zoned in on Goro waiting for him near the parking lot, not at all to his surprise. Akira shoved his hands in his pockets and approached him, trying to keep his expression even and ignore the blood pulsing in his ears. “Clever,” he said in lieu of a greeting. Goro smiled pleasantly at him, and Akira wanted to hit it off of his face.

“Turns out I didn’t need to be,” he replied. “Sakamoto’s isn’t exactly the last place I’d check.”

“Maybe I was just hoping you’d take a hint and just leave me alone,” Akira said.

Goro rolled his eyes. “That was a ridiculous expectation,” he said dryly. “You’re underestimating how tactless I can be.”

“Clearly,” Akira responded. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not going to stop avoiding you until you drop it. There’s nothing you can say or do that’ll change that.”

“And I’m not going to stop chasing after you until we talk about it,” Goro replied without missing a beat. “So it appears we’re at a standstill.”

Akira just paused to look at him for a moment, feeling misery curl in his gut. They’d had the same conversation over and over again for days now, and it was exhausting. The absolute last thing he wanted to do was avoid Goro; all he wanted was to go back to Leblanc or Goro’s apartment and just sit and talk and be in each other’s company, like usual. “Please don’t do this,” he said desperately. Goro sighed.

“I have to,” he said, though to his credit, he looked a bit regretful. “You understand that, right? I have to. And it would be so much easier on both of us if you’d cooperate with me.”

Akira shook his head, looking away to hide his expression. “It has nothing to do with you,” he said. “I know it’s hard for you to believe, but the world doesn’t revolve around Goro Akechi. It’s not your job to investigate and control everything, sometimes it’s just none of your business.”

Goro narrowed his eyes slightly. “Is that so,” he said lowly. “Fine. Let’s pretend that after everything, your well-being is of no consequence to me. Even so, I would still be affected by this. As long as you’re unable to access that room, there is no where else for us to turn regarding our situation.”

Akira laughed weakly. The fact that he was not only a complete pathetic failure of a human being, but also that that could be the reason that they were stuck in this time loop forever, was not something that he needed to be reminded of.

He didn’t respond for a long time. 

“Can you at least do me a favor?” he finally asked, quietly. “I know that no matter what I say, you’re going to try to get in there anyway. So, if you do manage to… don’t steal my heart. Just kill me.”

Akira wasn’t really sure what he was expecting Goro’s reaction to be, but it probably wasn’t for his eyes to immediately light up with anger and his mouth to curl into the deepest scowl Akira had ever seen on his face. “What?” he asked, his voice so cold that it made the hair in Akira’s arms stand up. Akira shrugged.

“If changes of heart carry over through the loop, maybe mental shutdowns do too,” he said casually. “It’s worth trying out. Actually, it might even end the loop all together, if I were to die perman—”

He was cut off by Goro suddenly grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him roughly toward him and gritting his teeth with such fury that Akira was almost afraid. “I hope for your sake that was a terrible joke,” he said, low and quiet. “But regardless, don’t ever fucking ask something like that of me again.”

Akira forced a grin. “Why?” he asked. “You didn’t seem to mind much the last time.”

He reached up to push back his bangs, and even though there was nothing physically there, he knew by the look in Goro’s eyes that the other boy could clearly see the scar of a bullet wound that had never really existed.

Goro let go of him and stepped back like he’d been burned. He stared at Akira for several long moments, all of the anger immediately gone from his features and replaced by his usual, carefully expressionless look Akira could never read. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I knew someone, once, who would have rather suffered and been eaten alive by his own twisted worldview than allow himself to even entertain the idea that others might be able to help him down a better path. And he died miserable and alone,” he finally said, his voice still entirely devoid of warmth. He turned away. “Call me when you get over yourself.”

Akira stood and watched him go, and continued to do so long after he’d disappeared into the distance. He eventually found the energy to walk back up to Ryuji’s apartment, barely processing his own actions as his legs moved on their own.

“What happened?” Ann asked, jumping up the moment he walked through the door. “Are you okay? Did he threaten you?”

Akira sat back down at the kotatsu, staring ahead blankly as his brain struggled to catch up. “No,” he said quietly. “He’s just… trying to help.”

“Huh? The hell are you talking about?” Ryuji asked with a grimace. “How could _that guy_ possibly help _you_?”

Akira just shook his head, trying to respond but his throat was suddenly too thick for the words to come out. He swallowed and just shook his head again. Ryuji and Ann’s shocked expressions began to blur in front of him.

“Akira?!” Ann asked in alarm, taking a seat beside him. “What’s wrong?”

It took him a few moments to realize that he was hyperventilating, and it wasn’t until he reached up to hide his face in his hands that he noticed the wetness on his cheeks. “Sorry,” he said, his voice broken and pathetic. “I’m… _fuck_.”

Ryuji knelt on his other side. “Say the word and I’ll go murder Akechi right now,” he said, his voice low and serious. Akira let out a watery laugh, shaking his head again.

“It’s not his fault,” he said, trying to steady his breathing. “It’s mine. Everything is my fault and I don’t know how to fix it.”

Ann and Ryuji glanced at each other. “Akira…” Ann said, placing her hand over his. “I know talking about your feelings isn’t really your thing, but you have to tell us what’s going on, or we can’t help you.”

Ryuji nodded in agreement. “Let us in, man,” he said. “There’s no shame in it.”

Akira closed his eyes. He took a deep, shaky breath. “You can help by not knowing,” he finally replied.

 

He didn’t know what his keywords were.

He didn’t especially want to know, and he definitely hadn’t put in the effort of guessing to see if a match came up on the Nav. But he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it.

In the past, the real-world equivalents had been places that were important to the target. For Akira, the most obvious assumption would be Leblanc. But he had no idea what his distorted image of Leblanc might be. As far as he was consciously aware, it was what it was: a warm coffee shop and a place he could call home. There was no way something like that would manifest into a…

Maybe it would help to trace the distortion to its roots. When had this started, anyway? The first time Goro had died? That was impossible, the engine room wasn’t even a place that existed in reality. He though back to what Yusuke had said to him in Mementos, what seemed like a lifetime ago. _I’ve noticed some concerning changes in your demeanor since the interrogation room, is all_. Maybe it really had been since then. So what, the interrogation room? The police station? Could be. He felt like he was on the right track.

He buried his face in his pillow and groaned. He hated this. He hated that this was even something he had to think about. If he was being honest with himself, he’d known for a long time. Way before Goro had spoken his name into the Metanav, maybe even before he found out he’d been blocked from the Velvet Room. But if he figured out the keywords, if he was actually able to enter and physically see the evidence of how fucked up he was… that would make it real. And he didn’t want it to be.

He laughed pathetically into his pillow. He was really no different from any of those bastards whose hearts they’d changed after all. How would his friends react if they knew the leader they’d followed and looked up to was just as distorted as their targets? How would he be able to face them? He already couldn’t look Goro in the eye. He couldn’t imagine how it was going to be when the other boy inevitably got in, and actually _saw_ what was in Akira’s heart. He wouldn’t be able to live with that. He’d rather die.

That’s what it all came down to, wasn’t it? He was terrified of being seen for who he really was. _He_ didn’t even know. Maybe he had at one point, but that had been a long time ago.

From the moment he’d intervened between that woman and Shido, he’d been dragged through a life that was meant for someone much more capable than he was. Someone special. As much as he tried to deny it to himself, the truth was that he was just a normal kid who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. He wasn’t a leader, or a thief, or a hero or a rebel or anything other than an average second-year high school student. 

He wasn’t someone who could get beaten within an inch of his life and caught up in an almost-assassination and come out unscathed. He wasn’t someone who could be counted on to save others or help anyone, even when given a limitless amount of time to do so. 

Despite all of that, the world and everyone around him had somehow decided that he was all of these things. He had no agency. He was trapped. 

Ever since he’d come here, his life hadn’t been his own. Tokyo was, and always had been, his prison.

 

_Beginning navigation._

Goro held his breath, and didn’t release it until he felt the cognitive world envelop him completely. The first thing he noticed was that, despite his expectations, the Shibuya he’d arrived in wasn’t much different from the one he’d left behind in reality. Maybe a bit cloudier, and certainly more ominous, but if he didn’t know any better he wouldn’t think he was in the Metaverse at all. He took his first step, attempting to cast away all of his hesitation.

Akira was going to hate him.

He’d known that all along, though. From the moment he’d even suspected that Akira had a palace, he knew that things were going to change between them forever. It was regrettable, but there were things more important than Goro getting his happy ending. It was undeserved, anyway.

He had to do this. He couldn’t afford to hesitate.

He paused as he heard something crinkle under his boot. Black Mask’s boot, to be specific. It really should’ve come to no surprise to him that he was immediately seen as a threat… he had no doubts about whether Akira wanted him there.

He reached down and picked up the piece of paper he’d stepped on, a familiar pair of eyes staring back at him.

WANTED  
DANGEROUS FUGITIVE  
UP TO 1,000,000 YEN REWARD  
FACES SEVERAL CHARGES INCLUDING MURDER

Goro sighed, frowning down at Akira’s mugshot. Figuring out the form Akira’s palace would take had been easy enough, especially after Goro had briefly seen the door to his Room when the twins had shown themselves to him several loops ago. It had interested him that it had been a cell door, especially considering that the one time Goro had been there, it hadn’t resembled a prison at all. He supposed now he understood why.

Except from where he was standing, he didn’t seem to be in a prison of any sort. It was just Tokyo, with the addition of Akira’s face plastered on every corner in the form of Wanted posters. Even the pedestrians seemed the same. They all seemed to be focused on something in Shibuya Crossing, however, and Goro followed the crowd cautiously.

“They still haven’t caught that guy?” he overheard someone saying, her tone sharp and aggressive. “Is it even safe for us to be out here?”

“They should’ve learned their lesson the last time he escaped,” another man was saying coldly. “He’s still a threat wherever he goes. It’d be better if they just got rid of him for good, y’know?”

Goro frowned deeply, inclining his head toward the big screen. There seemed to be some kind of news report playing, and it had the attention of everyone in the square. “ _And those are all the updates we have so far. Please contact the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department with any information,_ ” the woman on the screen was saying. Goro noticed some Shadows among the crowd, and he quickly hid himself amongst the civilians to escape their notice. He was only here on intel for the time being; he had no interest in fighting unless absolutely necessary.

“ _For those of you just now tuning in,_ ” the voice continued, but Goro was only half listening as he attempted to get an idea of his surroundings. “ _A manhunt is currently underway for escaped convict Akira Kurusu. The man in question is known the be extremely violent, so please take caution._ ”

Was the palace really the entirety of Tokyo? Was that even possible? How the hell was he supposed to find the treasure in an area that massive? He’d never done anything like this by himself. The only other time he’d infiltrated a palace with this objective in mind, he’d had… teammates.

“ _Kurusu was arrested in April of this year, and has escaped captivity several times since then. He is currently Japan’s most wanted man._ ”

Well, regardless, he would have to try. He couldn’t let this continue. He couldn’t let Akira view the world like this anymore, couldn’t let him believe things like…

“ _Among other crimes, he is currently facing charges for the murder of local celebrity detective Goro Akechi._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok the next few chapters are not going to be super easy to write bc of u know the logistics of trying to portray someone’s mentality through a physical cognitive world esp when that someone doesn’t have much canon basis to work with seeing as he happens to be a silent protagonist ha ha ha no i didn’t bite off more than i can chew i’m fine
> 
> anyway!! hopefully it won’t take me forever but if it does i will be posting updates on my writing twitter as usual so give it a follow!
> 
> thank u guys so much for ur support and for saying nice things as always :) :) :)


	14. Chapter 14

Aimlessly searching Tokyo, as it turned out, was just as exhausting in the Metaverse as it would be in reality.

It was like looking for a needle in a haystack, except that this particular haystack was over 2,000 square kilometers and he didn’t even know what the needle _was_. Maybe the treasure would have been easier to find if he were able to encounter Akira’s Shadow, but that proved even more difficult, especially considering his status as a convict on the run. As much as Goro would have loved to play the detective chasing a criminal, he wasn’t a detective. He never had been.

On the contrary, he specialized in brute force.

“Where is this Palace’s treasure,” he hissed, pressing his gun between the Ongyo-Ki’s eyes. “I have no qualms about torturing the information out of you if I must. If you’re really part of Akira, you know that isn’t a bluff.”

The Shadow laughed, the sound eerily echoing through Goro’s mind. “You are not welcome here, Goro Akechi,” it said. “You must leave immediately as per the Phantom Thief’s wishes.”

Goro rolled his eyes. “I’m not terribly concerned with the Phantom Thief’s…” he started, before trailing off, a familiar sensation suddenly sending a chill up his spine. He frowned, turning back to the Shadow. It might have made sense for the security level to increase once he’d confronted it, but there was no reason for it to happen _now_. “What’s going on?”

The Shadow in front of him had tensed considerably, no longer slumped over in defeat. It bared its teeth. “Leave,” it said sharply. “And take the other with you.” And then it backed away, disappearing into the shadows.

By the time Goro could even register the darkness blanketing him, or the fact that suddenly the sun was blocked out from above, he was being forced to his knees by a force so strong he didn’t have time to _consider_ fighting back.

“Necronomicon!” he heard a familiar voice shout, and he looked up to see Futaba Sakura approaching him, bathed in colorful light as her Persona cast what he assumed was Heat Riser. She caught the object that dropped from one of Necronomicon tentacles: his own gun, he realized, as she pointed it directly at his head. He hadn’t even noticed it being taken out of his belt.

He recalled, from when they’d infiltrated Sae’s palace what seemed like a lifetime ago, that he’d been impressed by Futaba Sakura’s incredible control over cognition. They could enter a battle at a disadvantage, and she could immediately turn it around so that the enemy was at their mercy without them even having to lift a finger. He realized, belatedly, that she must have just used that ability on him.

“What the hell is this?” Futaba asked him, looking terrified and upset despite her clear advantage in this situation. She looked around with wide eyes, her gun hand shaking. “I don’t know what’s going on, or what you think you’re doing, but I’m not going to let you hurt Akira.”

Goro put his hands up with a sigh. “Hold on. Let’s talk about this,” he said. He was sure he was just as alarmed to see her as she was to see him. “What are you doing here? How did you even know he… how did you know this place existed, let alone how to get _in_?”

She was quiet for a long time, visibly upset as she continued to hold the gun up to him. She sniffed. “I have your phone bugged,” she finally said. Goro exhaled sharply. Fuck. He’d known that. “I heard you say t-the keywords, and I didn’t believe it, but I had to… I had to _try_ , and sure enough… agh, what the hell? Why him? What are you trying to do to him?”

“Save him,” Goro replied, without hesitation. Futaba was quiet. He sighed. “Are you telling me that you came here _alone_ with the intention of stopping me? Are you insane? Your Persona isn’t even used for combat.”

She hesitated. “I… didn’t want to tell the others,” she muttered. “If it was true that Akira had a Palace… it wouldn’t be my place. I know what it’s like better than anyone.”

Goro nodded. “That’s why I didn’t come to any of you for help, too,” he said, slowly standing up. “But I could really use it. Can I have my gun back, please?”

“No way!” Futaba said, putting both hands on the gun. “Why the hell should I trust _you_ , psycho hitman?”

Goro grimaced. He’d never had to prove himself to Akira’s teammates before without Akira’s help, and he was at a loss. “I’m doing this with or without your help. I’ll fight you if I must, and we’re both aware that’s a fight you’re not going to win,” he said lowly. “Or, you could help me, and we can steal Akira’s heart together. You can save him the same way he saved you. Don’t you owe him that much?”

Futaba sniffed, hesitating for several moments, before she finally lowered the gun. “Why does he have a Palace?” she asked, soft and devastated. Goro sighed.

“It’s difficult to explain,” he said. “I’m not even sure I understand completely. He’s having a hard time. To a drastic extent, as you can see.”

“But why… why did _you_ know about this and I didn’t? It doesn’t make any sense, you’re…” she said, her lower lip wobbling. Her eyes widened. “Ohhh my god. You’re secret boyfriends, aren’t you.”

Goro pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t know how Akira did it. He hadn’t had to explain their situation half as many times as the other boy had, and he was already sick to death of repeating himself over and over. “Yes. Sure,” he replied flatly. “Believe what you want. Please just trust that I’m acting in Akira’s self-interest.”

“Oh, _gross_. I totally knew it, though. If you could see the way you look at him, you’d be so embarrassed,” she said casually. Goro chose to ignore that. She narrowed her eyes at him. “Uh, so what was with the shooting him thing? That your kink or something?”

“Please stop talking,” Goro said tiredly. 

“Okay, okay,” Futaba conceded. “Fine, I’ll help. For Akira. I still think you’re kind of a sociopath. By the way, does he know you’re in here?”

Goro shrugged. “I’m sure he could probably guess,” he said. “But I don’t exactly have his permission.”

Futaba hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah… now that I think about it, I don’t think Akira has ever expressed his feelings, like, ever. In his life,” she said. “I guess I can’t see him being open about something like this.”

“Yes. He’s extremely, frustratingly difficult to read,” Goro agreed. “Unfortunately, his Palace is a reflection of that.”

Futaba looked around. “What kind of Palace is this, anyway?” she asked. “How can it be _all_ of Tokyo? Not to mention it doesn’t even look like a prison…”

“Those are the questions I was hoping you’d help me answer,” Goro pointed out. “I feel like there’s something that I’m missing. Could you… scan for the Treasure, or whatever it is that you do?”

Futaba rolled her eyes, but pulled down her mask and paused briefly in concentration. “There are no notable readings at all, besides the occasional Shadow wandering around,” she said perplexedly. “I suppose maybe we’re just out of range, but… agh, Tokyo’s too big!”

Goro groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. It _was_ too big. Palaces weren’t usually on this grand a scale; it was one thing to search a room, or even a building, but an entire metropolis? It was impossible. The only Palace he could think of that had been even _close_ to this scale was…

He removed his hand, turning to Futaba eagerly. “Kaneshiro,” he said. “His location was technically all of Shibuya, but the Palace itself floated above it, while still encompassing the whole area.”

Futaba grinned. “Look at you, using that big detective brain of yours,” she said, patting him on the arm condescendingly. “Alright, scanning… ugh, it doesn’t look like any readings are coming up above us.”

Goro shook his head. “Well,” he said, looking down at his feet. There were miles and miles of tunnels under them, all of which connected the entirety of Tokyo to itself. “Try the opposite, then.”

 

“Welp,” Futaba said. “Guess we found the prison.”

Goro nodded warily. They were standing in front of what should have been the main building of Shibuya Station, but in its place sat a heavily-guarded concrete building surrounded by barbed-wire fence. The words _Tokyo Correctional Facility_ stood out over the entrance dauntingly. “I guess so,” he agreed. “Are you able to detect any infiltration points?”

Futaba pulled her goggles down and sighed. “Wow. This place is really locked down,” she said. “Guess it’s not surprising, considering Akira’s knowledge of the Metaverse. He obviously knows how to keep someone out.”

“That’s alright,” Goro said, reaching for his mask. “I’m not much for discretion anyway.”

Futaba grabbed his arm before he could remove his mask and summon Robin Hood. “Woahhh there,” she said. “Even if you do manage to break in, you’ll get surrounded by Shadow guards and die, dumbass. I don’t care how big and bad you think you are, we’re not just busting in guns blazing.”

Goro pulled out of her grip with a scowl. “We don’t have time to sit here and come up with an alternative,” he snapped. “I won’t allow this to go on a second longer than it needs to. Akira is… I’ve already sat by and watched him suffer for far too long.”

Futaba stared at him appraisingly for a moment. “…You seriously do care about him, huh?” she asked. Goro rolled his eyes.

“I assure you I’m not doing this for my health,” he said dryly. Futaba rubbed the back of her neck.

“Huh. I was still like, 75% sure this was a trap,” she said. “Real talk, what _happened_ with you two? It’s only been a few weeks since you tried to assassinate him, and now you’re like… it’s like you’re not even the same person. You’re not the fake obnoxious detective prince _or_ the crazy murderous asshole. Who the hell are you, anyway?”

Goro paused, before laughing once. “That’s a good question. But… at the very least, I know who I want to be, now,” he said with a bitter smile. He shook his head, eager to change the subject. “Anyway, fine, we’ll do it your way. How do you propose we infiltrate?”

Futaba pulled her goggles down again. “Well, there doesn’t seem to be any way to get in without being detected from here, but we know most of the Palace is underground,” she said. She grimaced. “You’re not gonna like this.”

 

If he’d been unsure of how much, exactly, he loved Akira Kurusu before now, he no longer had any doubts. No other person, nor any amount of money in the world, could have coerced him to willingly enter this situation. 

“Do you think Akira’s been in a sewer before?” Futaba asked, her voice echoing from the safety of Necronomicon. “Because his cognition of a sewer is like… weirdly realistic and detailed.”

“Be quiet,” Goro hissed, trying to breathe as little as possible. “Just stop talking. Have you found an infiltration point yet?”

She hummed to herself, completely carefree as Goro suffered below. “Oh, take a left here, I think I’ve got something!” she said excitedly. Goro trudged on, trying desperately not to think about what he was stepping in. “See that grate up there? I’m pretty sure there’s an opening on the other side. It’s kinda small though…”

Goro stared at the entrance she was referring to, dread suddenly clenching around his stomach like a fist. “Futaba…” he hissed. “I can’t walk through that.”

“Nope~” she said cheerfully. “You’re gonna have to crawl.”

Akira owed him free coffee for a lifetime. Goro was going to use this as leverage in every argument they had from this point forward, assuming he ever spoke to him again. “Right,” he said, taking a deep, long-suffering breath before dropping to his hands and knees.

Eventually, he was able to push through the grate. He pulled himself out and into what appeared to be some sort of storage cellar, packed with crates and barrels and surrounded by damp stone walls. He laid on his back for several seconds to gather his bearings before Futaba joined him. “Hey, I’m getting Shadow readings from the next room over!” she said excitedly. “I think we’re in the Palace!”

Goro closed his eyes. “If we _hadn’t_ ended up in the Palace, I think I might have killed you,” he said tiredly. He sat up with a frown. “This atmosphere is a bit strange, though. It resembled a modern prison from the outside, but now it seems like we’re in some sort of… medieval dungeon.”

Futaba hummed in agreement. “Let’s go check it out,” she suggested, nodding toward a heavy wooden door that appeared to be the only exit. Goro stood up. “Be ready, I’m getting some pretty powerful readings off of these enemies.”

They exited into a dark corridor, the narrow path lit only by torches that dimly illuminated a line of cells down the side. Goro’s gaze caught a plaque on the wall. “King’s Ward level 1,” he read out loud, raising an eyebrow. “It really is a castle dungeon, then. I wonder why.”

“Don’t ask me,” Futaba said with a shrug. “I have no idea what goes on in this kid’s head.”

“That makes two of us,” Goro agreed tiredly.

As they moved down the corridor, Goro took note of the fact that most of the cells were, in fact, occupied. All of the prisoners appeared to be high school students, and although Goro didn’t recognize any of them, their uniforms were familiar enough. “So Akira sees the people who go to his school as prisoners, huh…” Futaba mused. “Yeah, sounds about right. He’s definitely a ‘we’re all slaves to the system’ kind of guy.”

Goro hummed thoughtfully. “In that case,” he mused. “I wouldn’t be surprised if…”

“Yo, what are you doing here?!” a familiar voice suddenly interrupted them as they turned into the next corridor. Ryuji Sakamoto stared at them from the other side of his barred cell. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Was hoping you were Akira, but… wishful thinking, I guess.”

Futaba jumped in surprise. “Oh… man, this is weird,” she muttered. “I didn’t think about the fact that we’d be encountering Akira’s cognitions of us…”

“Are you expecting him, Sakamoto-kun?” Goro asked, ignoring Futaba’s comment. “I thought he’d escaped.”

Sakamoto frowned, rubbing the back of his neck and sitting cross-legged on the floor of his cell. “Yeah, well, he’ll be back,” he said confidently. “He’s comin’ back to save us. I know he is! He’d never let me down when I needed him.”

“That’s a steep expectation,” Goro said calmly. “He managed to free himself, you know. What if he doesn’t want to come back?”

Sakamoto raised an eyebrow. “Uh, dude, he wouldn’t be Akira if I couldn’t rely on him,” he said. “If he lets me down, what’s even the point of us bein’ best friends?”

Goro sighed. “I see,” he said, rubbing at his eyes. “Akira, you’re such an idiot.”

Futaba cleared her throat, pulling her goggles back down over her eyes. “Uh, we should probably get moving,” she said awkwardly. “There’s a high power level zeroing in on us, I think they know we’re here.”

Akechi nodded, sparing the bastardized cognition of Sakamoto only a brief glance before following her further down the hallway. “This seems kinda… invasive,” Futaba muttered. Goro scoffed.

“You do realize what a Palace is, right? It doesn’t get more invasive than this,” he said. “If you’re feeling guilty, you can go, I’ll be fine on my own.”

“Yeah, you wish. You’re not the only one willing to go out of your way for him,” Futaba huffed. “It’s just… weird. Akira never really talks about how he feels. Something tells me he doesn’t want us to see this.”

Goro paused. “Maybe he needs us to,” he said.

“Heeey, who’s there?” a voice suddenly called out, echoing through the corridor. They approached the cell the noise had come from, and Goro was decidedly unsurprised to see Ann Takamaki locked behind bars. She grinned and waved at them. “Oh, it’s you guys! Hi!”

“Let me guess,” Goro said. “You were expecting Akira.”

Ann chuckled, crossing his arms and leaning back against the side of her cell. “Uh, no, not really,” she said. “I gave up on that a while ago.”

“What do you mean?” Goro asked. Ann shrugged.

“He’s great and all, but he’s not really dependable, you know? I’ve learned it’s better not to count on him for anything,” she said, twirling a pigtail around her finger. “Even as a boyfriend, all he did was let me down… well anyway, it’s okay. I’m not waiting on him, I’m sure I’ll get out eventually.”

Futaba winced, humming under her breath as she pretended to be very preoccupied observing the adjacent cell. Goro sighed. “Anyway,” he said, tiredly. “Do you have any information on him? Like where he is now, or how he might have gotten out?”

Ann shook her head. “No idea,” she said. “I’m amazed he managed to get out this time at all. He’s escaped so many times that they put him in the highest security cell on the bottom level, but he _still_ got out again. He’ll be back, though. He’s always being prosecuted for something.”

Goro grimaced. The highest security cell was likely the most difficult place in the palace to reach, so naturally, he had no doubts about where the treasure was.

“Yo, Deadshot, that powerful reading is getting closer,” Futaba piped up.

Ann cringed and backed away from the bars. “It’s the warden,” she said in disgust. “Kamoshida. You’d better go, he’s a pain in the ass.”

Goro felt a sense of recognition wash over him at the name. He looked around at the other Shujin students imprisoned around them. Kamoshida. That made sense.

“C’mon, I think I found the way to the next level,” Futaba said, waving him toward her as they proceeded through the dungeon. They paused when they eventually reached a dead end: a large, locked gate blocking their route to the stairs. Futaba sighed. “Ugh, dammit, I was afraid of this. Guess it makes sense that we’d need some kind of clearance before just wandering through a prison.”

Goro scrubbed a hand over his face. “Well, then we search for a key,” he said. “Knowing Akira, it’s not going to be easy to find. You start by searching the cells, and I’ll try looting Shadows to see if—”

“Oh, please,” a voice suddenly interrupted, and Goro felt a sudden wave of disgust wash over him. “You can stop pretending to care now.”

Goro turned around slowly toward the cell across from them, the color immediately draining from his face as he locked eyes with… himself. Except this version of him looked much more unkempt, and also, wasn’t wearing any pants.

“Checking the cells! Got it!” Futaba said loudly, speed walking away down the corridor faster than Goro had ever seen her move. Goro put his face in his hands.

“What the hell,” he asked no one in particular. He looked up. “I thought you were dead. What happened to Akira’s ridiculous cognition that he’s responsible for my demise?”

The other him raised an eyebrow. “What, you thought he’d only have one cognition of us?” he asked with a chuckle. “Akira Kurusu is the only one who’s seen every side of Goro Akechi. Alive, dead, corrupt, good, who knows. _You_ don’t even know.”

Goro grimaced, pausing for several moments to let that information sink in. “Who are you, then?” he asked, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

The cognitive double grinned, tugging at the collar of his button down to reveal a scattering of bruises along his neck and chest. Goro winced. “‘I just need… something. Something to ground me when it becomes unbearable,’” the double said mockingly, throwing Goro’s own words back at him. “Come on, you haven’t forgotten why we keep Akira around, have you?”

Goro groaned in frustration. He’d known that had been a mistake, but he hadn’t realized he’d fucked up _this_ badly. But even so, it shocked him that Akira could be so incredibly blind.

“What’s wrong? I told you, you don’t have to pretend to care. We’re already getting what we want from him,” the cognitive double continued. “He should count himself lucky that we depend on someone like him at all. Even if it’s just for a good f—”

The gunshot echoed loudly through the stone corridor. The gun in Goro’s hand shook as he watched his mirror image disappear into a cloud of black smoke.

“Woah, what did you just do?” Futaba asked frantically, reappearing by his side. “The security level just _skyrocketed_.”

Goro scrubbed a hand over his face. “Sorry,” he said. He laughed to himself. “I wonder what’s going to be left when I’m finished destroying other people’s cognitions of me.”

Futaba pulled her goggles down. “Uh, yeah, that sounds like a problem for your therapist,” she said. “In the meantime, we have to go back. I don’t know why killing a cognition made this much of an impact, but they’re in high alert.”

Goro paused, glancing down at the spot where he’d just watched himself disappear. “We don’t have to go back,” he said, reaching through the bars and grabbed the object that had fallen to the floor. It was a skeleton key. Futaba eyed it warily.

“I know how eager you are to help Akira,” she said. “But we can’t help him if we get ourselves killed.”

He shook his head. “I know. We’ll stop once we reach the next safe room,” he said, turning the key in the barred exit and listening as the buzzer confirmed their clearance. “I need a break.”

 

By the time they made it out and back onto the streets of Shibuya in reality, Goro was exhausted all the way down to his bones. “Okay, um… good work, or whatever,” Futaba said awkwardly. “I’m gonna go home now. And you better tell me next time you go in, okay? No going without me!”

Goro hesitated. “Okay,” he eventually agreed. “I’ll keep in contact.”

As he made his way back to his apartment, he was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t even realize how dark it had gotten, or how suspiciously empty the streets were. Once he did, though, he nearly dropped his phone in his effort to pull it out of his pocket and check the time.

His heart sank.

He knew there was little point in doing so, but he couldn’t stop himself from dialing Akira’s number. His heart was nearly racing out of his chest as he listened to it ring slowly. He was such an idiot, he hadn’t even considered the fact that he was abandoning the Akira in reality, what if he’d done something stupid, what if he—

“ _Goro?_ ” his voice crackled over the line. Goro let out a sharp, painful breath. Akira sounded just as alarmed as he felt.

Goro looked at his phone again to check the time, convinced he must had misread it. He hadn’t. It was 11pm.

“You’re alive?” Goro asked in disbelief. Akira paused.

“ _I was about to ask you the same thing,_ ” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait! thank you so much for reading as always! <3


	15. Chapter 15

Akira watched the clock move forward another minute. 11:59pm.

“ _Alright?_ ” Goro asked him softly over the phone. Akira grimaced. The last thing he wanted to hear was Goro Akechi’s annoying, invasive, genuine concern, but… well, this was important. His resentment could wait.

“I’m alive,” he confirmed. They were both quiet for a beat. 

“ _That time, when you…_ ” Goro started, before trailing off. “ _I blacked out right at midnight, and the next thing I knew it was tomorrow. Or… today, again._ ”

“Yeah. It’s usually like that for me,” Akira agreed tiredly.

Goro hummed across the line. “ _I wonder if it will be the same now. Or if we’ll finally…_ ” He trailed off. Akira swallowed.

“We’ll find out,” he said.

“ _We will_ ,” Goro agreed. The line went quiet again. This was awkward. He hated that talking to Goro had become like this, but it was impossible for him to act like everything was the same between them. It never would be again. 

He remembered listening to Goro’s deep breathing, his mind fuzzy and blank from exhaustion. Then, the next thing he knew, he was startling awake to the sound of his ringtone. He fumbled with his phone, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Hm?” he mumbled in lieu of a greeting.

“ _About time,_ ” Goro said exasperatedly. He sighed. “ _Did you see the date?_ ”

Akira paused, the situation becoming more clear as consciousness caught up to him. He and Goro had both reached midnight alive, for the first time ever. It was the next morning. It was…

He slowly moved his phone away from his ear and in front of his face, his hand shaking. He swallowed thickly as he clicked the calendar app, his blood freezing in his veins.

December 11th. Sunday.

“ _Either we changed something critical,_ ” Goro went on, though Akira could barely hear him over his own breathing. “ _Or… we were always wrong. Our deaths weren’t even a factor._ ”

Akira exhaled slowly. “Wasn’t even… ah,” he said slowly. “So, there was no reason. This whole time it was preventable, and I…” He grimaced, closing his eyes and trying to hold back the misery that threatened to overwhelm him. “Right.”

“ _Akira,_ ” Goro said. He was quiet for several beats. “ _I miss you._ ” His voice was as still and calm as if he’d been commenting on the weather.

Akira blinked once. Then twice. “What?” he said, feeling vaguely like Goro had just hit him with an unexpected right hook. Goro sighed exasperatedly.

“ _You’re going to make me say it again? Fine,_ ” he said. “ _I miss you. I want you to help me infiltrate your palace. I want you to stop avoiding me and I want us to get through this together, because we have to, because the two of us are the only ones who are even aware of what’s happening and we’re the only ones who can. But even if none of that were the case, I would still miss you. Did you hear me that time?_ ”

Akira choked a little bit, unsure of how to react to the confession. He was somewhere between irritated and touched. “Were you always this embarrassing?” he muttered. Goro chuckled lightly.

“ _I’ve become more sentimental, maybe,_ ” he admitted. “ _But I’ve always had a habit of sharing whatever is on my mind with you._ ”

Akira rubbed at his eyes. He felt a headache coming on. “I miss you too,” he said, because it was true. He swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

Goro exhaled in resignation. “ _I thought you’d say that,_ ” he said. He paused. “ _Well, I guess that’s it, then. Goodbye, Akira._ ”

“Wait,” Akira said quickly, startling even himself. He squeezed his eyes shut. “Be careful, please. If you die in there, I… I can’t…” Goro laughed once through his nose.

“ _I think you’re giving yourself a bit too much credit,_ ” he said lightly. “ _We’re both going to be okay._ ”

A small smile ghosted it’s way onto Akira’s lips. “Still annoyingly overconfident,” he muttered. He sighed. “See you. Goro.”

“ _You will,_ ” Goro agreed, before the line went dead.

 

“I don’t understand why you called me,” Futaba said, looking more than a little on-edge as they stepped out of the safe room. “You are so suspicious. I’ve never trusted someone less in my entire life.”

Goro didn’t even spare her a glance as he eyed the plaque above the doorway suspiciously. _Shogun’s Ward_. Hm. “I can’t make you trust me, but I called because I trust you,” he said simply. “Do you plan on being helpful? If not, you are certainly free to go.”

She scoffed. “ _Or_ , the third option: I could go get my friends and we could forcibly remove you from my pseudo-brother’s heart,” she said, crossing her arms. “You expect me to believe that you suddenly care about Akira after you tried to wipe him off the face of the earth? Like, you realize you tried to _kill_ him, right? He was gonna be gone forever and you didn’t care. Didn’t even hesitate.”

This was why he was better off not associating with Akira’s friends. No matter how much happened or changed, to them, he would always be the person he was in the interrogation room. Even if he convinced them otherwise, they would just wake up the next morning and he would once again be the heartless assassin who wanted Akira Kurusu dead.

He was really fucking tired of it.

“Do you ever shut up?” Goro hissed, a vein in his temple throbbing agitatedly. “Any of you? Do you ever just mind your own business? You have absolutely no concept of what’s going on. You don’t understand anything. You’re so insignificant in the grand scheme of things compared to Akira and me that it’s laughable. So either help me here, or get the hell away from me and go home. Better yet, maybe you should go tell your friends you mentioned to treat Akira like a human being rather than an outlet of their insane amount of dependence, and then maybe he’ll stop wanting to kill himself so badly that the desire manifested into a fucking Palace.”

Futaba blinked slowly, and didn’t speak for several moments. 

“Wow,” she finally said. “Was that like, your big emotional monologue that kicks off your character development?”

Goro sighed, running a gloved hand through his hair. “No, that already happened a while back,” he said, unsure why he was even humoring her. “You just don’t remember.”

“I never understand anything you’re saying,” Futaba said flatly. She paused again. “Is that true, about Akira? Does he really want to…” She trailed off, looking uncomfortable. “Is it really our fault?”

“No, I didn’t mean that,” Goro replied immediately. “I’m sorry. I’m sure this is all just as upsetting for you.”

Futaba’s lip wobbled slightly, but she rolled her eyes. “Yeah, no kidding. _You_ of all people popped back into my life, led me into the manifestation of Akira’s twisted, depressing desires, and told me he’s suicidal, all before 9am,” she said, her voice wavering. “Why are you so concerned about this, anyway? I just don’t get it.”

“For the same reason you are,” Goro said, mostly calm again as he continued down the strangely immaculate corridor. Futaba laughed dryly.

“ _I’m_ concerned because Akira is like a brother to me and I love him,” she pointed out. Goro nodded.

“Right.”

Futaba raised an eyebrow. “Akira’s like a brother to you?” she asked doubtfully. Goro laughed once.

“Not even remotely,” he deadpanned. Futaba slowly came to a stop.

“Oh,” she said. Realization crossed her features. “Ohhhhhh.”

Goro narrowed his eyes as they stepped into an open area, the atmosphere changing dramatically from the previous floor. The room was ornately detailed to a gaudy extent, and the velvet walls were lined with paintings. He stepped toward one of the walls to observe the artwork more closely.

”Who’re they?” Futaba asked, peeking over his shoulder at the painting he was observing. Goro lifted a shoulder.

“His parents, I’m guessing,” he replied, narrowing his eyes at the cold, stern-looking portrait of a man and a woman. “I’ve never heard him talk about them.”

Futaba hummed. “Me either,” she agreed. “They look… pleasant.”

Goro snorted, moving on toward the short staircase at the other side of the room. He briefly glanced at the other paintings as he passed: there was one of Akira being restrained by the police as a familiar man stood over him condescendingly, one of him boarding a train to Tokyo and looking back at a man and woman who weren’t even glancing in his direction. On the far wall was a mural of a group of people wearing Shujin uniforms, looking down at Akira scornfully as he sat at a desk, head lowered and hair obscuring his face. Goro attempted to put them out of his mind as he walked on.

The next room, similarly to the first ward, was lined with cells. These ones, however, weren’t blocked off by bars, but instead by infrared lasers. “What kind of prison is this?” Futaba said flatly. “It looks more like a… museum, or something.”

She and Goro exchanged a glance. “You never entered Madarame’s Palace, correct?” he asked. She shook her head.

“No,” she confirmed, seeming to have reached the same conclusion that he had. “But I’m guessing it looked something like this.”

“Did you say Madarame?” a voice suddenly spoke up, and they turned toward one of the cells across from them. There was Yusuke Kitagawa, sitting cross-legged on the other side of the lasers. “It would be best if you avoid the warden. However, since it’s you… I’m sure you wouldn’t come to any harm regardless.”

Futaba knelt down curiously. “So you’re Akira’s cognitive Inari, huh?” she asked. She narrowed her eyes. “You seem pretty normal. What’s your deal? What are you locked up for?”

Yusuke tilted his head curiously. “Locked up? No, I’m an exhibit,” he explained calmly. “Akira can’t reach me here.”

Goro raised an eyebrow at that. “You don’t want him to?” he asked curiously. Yusuke seemed to think on that for a moment.

“It’s not that,” he replied. “It’s just better this way. Works of art don’t mesh well with thieves, you know.”

Goro pursed his lips tightly. Futaba let out a little _ahhh_ of understanding and stood up. “Got it,” she nodded. “This is about Akira’s little crush on—”

“What did you mean, before?” Goro asked quickly, cutting her off. He could throw a jealous tantrum later. “You mentioned that we wouldn’t come to any harm. However, the Shadows here are undoubtedly aggressive.”

Yusuke nodded. “Yes, because Akira doesn’t wish for you to be here,” he said. “But that conflicts with his ultimate desire. Haven’t you noticed?”

Goro paused. Now that he thought about it, while the Shadows they’d come across were undoubtedly strong, Goro had never felt at any point that his life was endangered. Almost as if they were trying to scare him off, but not cause actual harm.

“His ultimate desire being…” Futaba asked slowly. Yusuke just smiled. Goro looked away.

“Let’s move on,” he said. Futaba nodded, making to follow after him before pausing.

She tilted her head. “You’re nothing like the real Inari,” she said casually. “He’ll never leave Akira’s side or try to distance himself from him, no matter what. None of us will.”

The cognitive Yusuke chuckled lowly. “You say that now,” he replied lightly. “But one day you’ll see what I see. What the real Yusuke sees. And that is that Akira Kurusu is nothing but a failure that we should pity.”

“ _Futaba_ ,” Goro said darkly, continuing on briskly. Futaba hesitated briefly, caught off guard, before turning away from the cognition of her friend and following along.

They entered into another large, open exhibit, except this time, there were only three paintings, each the size of an entire wall. These ones were a bit more difficult to ignore.

The first one he noticed was on the wall to their left. It was a mural of Akira, wearing a striped prisoner’s uniform and trapped behind bars in a glowing blue room. His head was down and his hair was covering his face, while his hands were restrained above him. However, instead of being held by cuffs or chains like one might expect in a prison setting, he was tied up with strings, like a puppet. There was a hand above holding the control bar, but it was unclear who it belonged to.

The next mural was to their right, and it was a much more familiar scene. Familiar to Goro especially, seeing as he was the only person who had witnessed this particular event in full.

Akira was sitting at a table, his face marred with bruises that Goro was used to seeing by now, except in the painting, they were fresh. Standing over him, casting a shadow on his figure, was Goro himself. His face was curled into a cruel, ugly grin, and he held a gun inches from Akira’s unreadable expression. Goro felt sick, suddenly. He didn’t want to see this.

“Do you regret it?” Futaba asked, startling him as she was suddenly right at his shoulder. Goro grimaced and looked away.

“Obviously,” he said. “I regret a lot of things.”

They moved on, crossing the long room and heading toward the back wall, where the last mural was elaborately splashed across the stone.

There was more than one image displayed there. There were hundreds, in fact. A train derailing. A gas station exploding. A car crashing. Every single one of Goro’s deaths since the loop had started, on display in frightening detail. And at the center of it all, much bigger than the rest, was an image that made Goro’s stomach churn. 

Akira was reaching out desperately toward Goro, but he was much too far away. And Goro… Goro was on his hands and knees, his Black Mask costume ripped and worn as he faced away from Akira. He was in a pool of blood. It was hard to make out the setting in the collage, but Goro knew that it was the engine room. It was the first time.

He’d had a discussion with Kitagawa once, one of the few they’d ever had, about art. Goro had claimed to be an appreciator at the time. It wasn’t true, of course, he didn’t care about art, didn’t care about half of the things he pretended to be passionate about, but he’d loved the approval and the conversation. He distinctly remembered Kitagawa rambling about the emotions that art could provoke, how art wasn’t simply something to look at and admire, but a _feeling_ , something emotionally palpable. Goro had outwardly agreed, but inwardly thought he was just being theatrical as usual. Overall, he hadn’t thought much of the conversation.

Until now. Because now, as he looked at the image in front of him, he could feel every inch of it. Every inch of what Akira felt. And it was dark, and tragic, and more oppressive than the direction of his mind even on his worst days. He felt like he was drowning, and he couldn’t do anything to save himself, sure as hell couldn't do anything to save _Akira_.

“Akechi,” Futaba breathed, snapping him out of his building distress. “What… what _is_ this?”

Goro grimaced and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Even if I tell you… it just doesn’t matter. Come on, we have to keep going.”

Futaba glanced at him worriedly as he carried on down the corridor, not sparing another look at the mural.

They eventually made their way to another room of cells, much like the one they’d found Kitagawa in. Goro made his way down curiously, freezing in his tracks as he was met with yet another image he didn’t want to see.

“Ah, hello. It’s good to see you,” the mirror image of himself said pleasantly, flashing a charming camera smile. “There seems to be some sort of mistake, would you mind helping me? I shouldn’t be locked up, I’m with the police, after all.”

“Ewww,” Futaba said. “Why does Akira still see you as the foppish Detective Prince even now? He knows who you really are… this cognition doesn’t make sense.”

Goro grimaced. “It’s just one of his cognitions of me. Apparently he has a plethora,” he said. “Go further down and see if there’s an entryway to the next ward. It might be locked.”

“Roger,” Futaba said, saluting him before continuing on. He sighed and turned back to himself.

“Well? Are you here to free me?” Detective Prince Goro said with a smile. “I am innocent, after all. I’m sure I’d have no problem getting out myself, but it would be faster if you’d help me. What do you say?”

Goro rolled his eyes. “Stop talking so much,” he said tiredly. “Tell me how to get to Akira’s treasure.”

The Detective Prince chuckled. “Ah, yes, I probably could find it. I am a rather skilled detective, aren’t I?” he mused. “Well, perhaps we could make a deal. Every relationship is based on mutual benefit, is it not?”

God, he was aware that it was all an act, but had he really been this annoying? If this cognition of himself flashed that obnoxiously fake smile one more time he was going to punch him. “You’re not a detective,” he said flatly. “You’re… just a kid. You have no idea what you’re doing.”

The cognition’s eyes widened slightly, but the smile never left his face. “Well, does it matter?” he asked calmly. “The public believes what they see. They’re impressed. They praise me. That’s all I’ve ever really wanted.”

Annoying.

“Akechi, there’s a barred doorway up ahead!” Futaba called. “It’s locked though…”

Luckily, Goro knew who had the key. He pulled out his gun. “Well, thank you for nothing, detective,” he said boredly. “A word of advice, for the future, if there is one. Worry more about building relationships with others than what strangers think of you.”

His hand tightened on the gun, and he prepared to destroy himself, the way he had several times before. This time, though, he didn’t get the chance to pull the trigger.

“That’s enough,” a voice hissed in his ear, and it was so welcome and familiar that Goro felt his stomach drop. There was a hand grabbing his, suddenly, pulling his arm back and aiming the gun up and away from the cognition. “You’ve done enough. It’s time for you to go.”

Goro glanced over his shoulder, and was met immediately with glowing yellow eyes. He let out a breath. “Hello, Akira,” he said calmly. “I was hoping I’d run into you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys!!! sorry for the shorter chapter and the slow update :( i’ve actually been out of the country since the end of may and will be until the end of june, and i’m studying so i’ve had almost no time. i wanted you guys to know i’m still alive and working on this though!! updates will definitely come more frequently once june is over <3


	16. Chapter 16

Goro wasn’t really sure what he’d been expecting from Akira’s shadow. As hard as he’d tried (and god, had he tried), he could never truly get a grasp on what the other boy was thinking. There were only two things he knew for certain: one, Akira was obsessed with the idea of saving him, and two, he was filled with so much self-hatred that he’d given up completely. The combination of those things left Goro with the impression that, if anything, at least his shadow wouldn’t be aggressive.

That impression had been wrong.

Goro’s back hit the velvet-lined wall with a _thud_ as Akira’s shadow pressed into him, his right arm pinning Goro’s left and the gun held within it. “Maybe you didn’t hear me the first time,” Akira hissed. “ _Get out_.”

“I heard you,” Goro said with a grimace. He was sure he could overpower the shadow if he had to, but he wasn’t exactly eager to bring out Loki and go all-out against Akira. Especially in front of Futaba. “But I have no intention of leaving, and every intention of killing that obnoxious thing you let exist here.”

The shadow narrowed his yellow eyes, and despite himself, Goro couldn’t help but feel intimidated. Shadow Akira more resembled Joker than he did the quiet, unimposing teenager Akira Kurusu. He was wearing a suit, the coattails long like in his usual Metaverse attire, but the overall look was more yakuza boss than phantom thief. His eternally messy hair was pushed back, and he was wearing neither his mask nor glasses, leaving his eyes shockingly unobscured. The look he was fixing Goro with was so intense and unlike him that Goro might have stopped breathing, temporarily.

“I’m not going to let you kill him,” the shadow hissed menacingly. Goro scowled.

“Why are you even here?” he asked in frustration. “I thought you’d escaped.”

Shadow Akira smiled grimly. “I did. And now I’m back,” he said. “Thank you for that.”

Futaba made a little noise of realization. “You drew him out by threatening his cognition of you,” she said. “What Yusuke said… his ultimate desire…”

The cognitive Detective Prince, still standing calmly in his cell, chuckled. Goro glared at him. “Well, obviously,” he said, haughty and pretentious as ever. “I realize you’re not a _real_ detective, but even you must have figured out that much, right? You know what his ultimate desire is. The basis this palace was founded upon. Don’t you?”

Goro grimaced. “Yes,” he said.

“I’ve had enough of letting Goro Akechi die,” Akira said, his grip still tight around Goro’s wrist. “Stopping that from happening is more important than anything, even if it means I stay locked up in here forever.” Goro laughed once in disbelief, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“God, you cannot possibly be this dense. That isn’t _me_ ,” he snapped. He shoved out of Akira’s grip, reluctantly putting his gun away for the sake of avoiding a fight. The shadow continued to eye him warily. “You do realize that was a fake persona I created so that I could get away with _murdering_ people, right? I used it to deceive you into trusting me so I could murder _you_.”

Shadow Akira looked away. “It doesn’t matter,” he said.

“How can it not matter?!” Goro asked in disbelief. “You’re tearing yourself up inside for the likes of _him_? You think some piece of shit who uses you for sex is worth saving?”

“Every part of you is worth saving.”

Goro wanted to hit something in frustration. He ran a hand through his hair. “You’re an idiot,” he hissed. “Ever since the engine room… every day I’ve watched you suffer on behalf of me, and I know I can’t talk any sense into that incredibly dense head of yours, so I’ve… I’ve been trying to become someone who _deserves_ it. But then I come in here to see you locking away these parts of me like they’re worth preserving—”

“They _are_ —”

“That isn’t for you to decide!” Goro snapped, his hand tightening in his hair.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Futaba suddenly said a bit frantically, tugging on the back of Goro’s suit coat. “But there’s a high level shadow coming in hot. We should get moving.”

Goro sighed, covering his face with his hand and taking a deep breath. He couldn’t stand it. This reminder that he was just another cog in the system that had abused Akira his whole life was unbearable. What was the difference between Goro and the woman he’d saved from Shido, who’d turned around and told the police he’d been the assailant? Between him and the numerous repulsive members of society that Akira had shown undeserved mercy to? He was just another abuser of Akira’s self-sacrificial, unwavering kindness. And he was standing in the evidence of just what all of that had done to him.

It was unbearable, but he couldn’t linger on it. He had a job to do. He could only hope that after he changed Akira’s heart, the other boy would finally wake up and realize that Goro had never been worth this.

“Fine. I‘ll let that cognition live,” Goro said calmly, nodding his head toward the cognitive Detective Prince. “But in return, you have to give us the access we need to get to the treasure.”

Shadow Akira scowled and looked away. “Why can’t you just _leave_ ,” he asked bitterly. “You’re such a pain in the ass.”

“It would be less of a pain in the ass for both of us if you helped,” Goro pointed out. “Why are you so adamant about resisting me? You know what I’m trying to do. You can’t possibly be this eager to remain as you are now.”

“You don’t understand anything,” Akira scowled. He looked away. “Leave before I make you.”

“ _Akechi_ ,” Futaba hissed. Goro could feel the enemy presence himself, at this point. It was most likely the warden. He really didn’t intend on fighting a high level shadow at the moment, especially with Akira’s shadow present.

Goro pulled out his gun again, with every intention of using it to coax the key to the next area out of hiding. Before he could act, however, Akira’s shadow was tackling him to the ground, knocking the weapon out of his hand. Goro cursed loudly. “We’re not the reason the shadows are on high alert,” he hissed. “ _You’re_ the escaped convict, they’re after _you_. If we don’t get moving it will be a problem for all three of us.”

Akira’s shadow smiled grimly. “I don’t need reminding that I’m a prisoner in my own mind,” he said. “But I’m stopping you even if it kills me.” Goro growled.

“ _Why?!_ ” he asked again. Akira tightened his grip on his wrists.

“Because… dammit, Goro, if this palace is built on my desire to save you, what’ll happen if you change my heart?” he replied loudly, his expression raw and pleading. Goro paused in his struggle. “If I lose that, what’ll happen to you? You can’t… you can’t take that away from me. I won’t let you.”

Goro was at a loss for words. Time seemed to stand still momentarily, until all at once, the shocked silence was broken by a loud, resounding gunshot.

He adjusted his neck to find the form of Futaba Sakura, holding his gun with shaky hands, aimed right toward where his cognitive double had been standing a moment before.

“W-we have to _go_ ,” Futaba said, as if making an excuse for her actions. She tossed the gun away, her eyes wide, clearly unused to being the one to instill violence. “Please, Akechi, grab the key and come on.”

Goro shoved Akira off of him, slipping his hand through the bars and grabbing the key his cognitive double had left behind. He stood up and turned back to the shadow with an outstretched hand. “We’re not your enemy,” he said softly. “Come on.”

The shadow grimaced and took Goro’s hand, standing up and pulling him down the hallway toward the barred entrance to the next ward.

They didn’t stop until they were well into the next area, the gate closed and locked behind them. Akira’s shadow sighed and put his face in his hands, leaning back against the wall defeatedly. Futaba stared at him from a careful distance.

“So you brought Futaba here,” the shadow spoke up, his voice detached as he stared steadily at the floor. “I guess I should be used to you betraying me by now.”

Goro rolled his eyes. “Spare me the dramatics,” he said tiredly. “She’s here because she wants to help you.”

Futaba looked away. She’d been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the whole ordeal, and she’d seemed almost… afraid, of Akira’s shadow. Or at the very least, unwilling to approach him. “Can we keep going?” she asked softly. Goro nodded.

“We can,” he agreed. He turned to the shadow. “Are you coming?”

Shadow Akira closed his eyes. “I don’t need saving, Goro,” he said quietly. “I need to save _you_.”

Goro took a step forward. He reached a hand up, toward the face that was a reflection of the one he knew so well. He stopped his gloved fingers just before they touched the Shadow’s cheek, thinking better of it and letting his hand fall back to his side.

Emotions were so complicated. He wished, sometimes, that he could’ve remained cold and detached. But looking at the boy in front of him, he realized that was never even a possibility.

“You did,” he said, soft but firm. Akira looked up at him with burning, yellow eyes.

“Come on,” Futaba pleaded once again. Goro nodded, gesturing for her to follow him as they made their way further down the corridor into the… _Don’s Ward_ , the plaque read.

The shadow let them go.

 

“Is something the matter?” Goro asked awkwardly.

Futaba blinked from where she’d been staring blankly ahead for the last several minutes. “What? No. Why?” she replied, pulling down her goggles distractedly. “The enemy presence is lower than it was before, all of the shadows must have focused their attention on… him.” Goro sighed.

“Well, that’s good,” he said. “We’ll get to the next safe room as quickly as possible and then be done for the day.” Futaba pursed her lips.

“I can handle going further,” she said adamantly. “Don’t pull out because of me, I’m _fine_ , seriously.”

Goro ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not because of you,” he said. “I’m tired.”

And that was true. He was deeply, existentially tired, all the way down to his bone marrow.

They walked on further, and it quickly became clear to Goro just exactly where they were. The cells in this ward were replaced by heavy steel vaults, and the walls were cold and metal and lined with locked safes. “It’s a bank, like…” Futaba observed.

“Kaneshiro’s palace, yes,” Goro finished for her. He knew the pattern, at this point. “I’m sure there will be some cognition of me in here somewhere. Just find him as quickly as possible, and we’ll get the key and move on.”

Futaba nodded slowly, looking around. “But… they’re vaults,” she pointed out. “We can’t see who’s inside them.”

Goro grimaced. “Can’t you figure that out?” he asked impatiently. Futaba rolled her eyes.

“I can only sense the presence of shadows and cognitions, I can’t tell them _apart_ ,” she said, pulling down her goggles regardless. She paused. “Wait, but not all of the cells are occupied. I can narrow it down. Try this one up here on the left.”

Goro approached the cell she was referring to, grabbing onto the spindle wheel handle attached to the vault and turning it with all of his strength. It moved more easily than he’d expected, the door swinging open only to reveal another set of metal bars keeping the occupant enclosed on the other side.

The occupant, as he really should have expected, being Makoto Nijima.

She stared at him, as she often did, like he was a bug on the sidewalk. “Oh. I thought you might be Akira,” she said flatly. “I heard he came back.”

“He did,” Goro agreed. “Sorry to disappoint you, he’s probably avoiding security at the moment.”

Nijima laughed dryly, rolling her eyes. “Of course,” she said. She glared at Goro. “And what, he sent you along? I can’t believe he trusts you after everything, he’s such an _idiot_. None of us would be in this situation if I was the leader.”

Futaba exhaled loudly. “Makoto doesn’t feel that way,” she grit out. The cognition turned to her.

“Are you sure?” she asked. “What has Akira ever done for us? Well, at least he’s good at being a sacrificial lamb. That’s why I came up with the interrogation room plan in the first place. You remember the interrogation room… don’t you, Akechi-kun?”

He watched as Futaba physically recoiled, and he had to stop himself from doing the same. “Where is my cell in this ward?” he asked flatly. “If you can’t tell us that, then we’ll be going now.” Nijima laughed again.

“Oh, so what, Akira sent you to free _him_ while the rest of us suffer because of his actions? That figures,” she said with a wave of her hand. “Next corridor to your left, all the way at the end.”

Goro couldn’t get away from her fast enough.

Futaba was silent as they made their way toward where Nijima had directed them. Goro didn’t pay her much mind, that is, until she finally broke her silence with a small, nearly inaudible sniffle. He stiffened defensively.

“Please don’t do that,” he said in slight panic.

She sniffled again. “I’m not doing anything,” she said, clearly choked up. He exhaled sharply.

“You’re crying,” he pointed out uncomfortably. He couldn’t handle this, not ever but especially not _right now_. She let out a small sob, and Goro’s heart rate spiked. “ _Please_.”

“This is our fault,” she said. “This palace doesn’t just exist because of you, or society, or corrupt adults… we _all_ did this. He was always so concerned with us and our problems and none of us even knew… we never even paid attention to what was going on with _him_.”

Goro let out a deep breath. “Yeah,” he said. “We’re awful.”

“None of us deserve him at all.”

“We don’t.”

“B-but he thinks… he thinks _he’s_ some kind of burden on _us_ ,” she cried in outrage. “We would all be dead without him. Maybe not literally, but… you know what I mean.”

Goro swallowed. “I do,” he said.

Futaba wiped at her eyes. “Sorry,” she said. “It’s just so hard to see all of this.”

Goro nodded slowly. “I look forward to watching it crumble,” he said. He caught her gaze with purpose. “And it will. That’s why we’re here.”

Futaba sniffled one more time, before wiping her nose on the back of her sleeve and nodding. “Yeah,” she said. She rubbed the back of her neck. “Thank you for asking me to do this with you. I still don’t really get it, but you trusted me, and I can tell you really care about him, so… I trust you too.”

Goro clenched his teeth, and felt the moment shatter. “I wish you wouldn’t,” he said, reaching for the spindle wheel on the vault in front of them.

He knew, eventually, he would be staring at a Black Mask on the other side of one of these cells. He hadn’t exactly been looking forward to it.

“How cute,” his cognitive double said darkly, his expression showing none of the cockiness of the previous cognition, or the slyness of the one before that. His face betrayed nothing but anger and loathing. “Your delusions have led you this far.”

“What the hell are you wearing?” Futaba asked dryly.

“Ugh,” Goro said.

Black Mask approached the bars, glaring at him coldly. “Are you having fun, pretending you could ever belong with someone else? That anyone could ever give a shit about you?” he drawled. “I don’t know who you think you’re kidding, we both know the truth. Trivialities like teammates and friends are so _worthless_. You’re better off alone.”

“Noted,” Goro replied. “I’ll take your key, please.”

The cognition didn’t move, just kept his unsettling gaze fixed on him. Goro stared back and realized with a start that this is exactly what Akira had seen in the engine room all those Sundays ago. He’d looked at this deranged monster and still, somehow, been _sad_ when he was gunned down on the other side of that barricade.

“You had everything within your grasp. And you gave it all up, for what? _Friendship_?” the cognition continued in disgust. He turned to Futaba, a short, cruel laugh leaving his lips. “Do you think she would be your _friend_ if she knew what y—”

The cognition was dead mid-word, disappearing into black smoke on the other end of Goro’s gun. They stood in silence for several beats.

He could convince himself it was for Futaba’s sake. She’d already been through a lot, and the last thing she needed was more stress on top of it all. He didn’t care if she found out, she already _had_ found out on previous Sundays, and it had never been quite as catastrophic as he’d feared. She was always forgiving. It just wasn’t something that she needed to hear, not today.

But in reality, he just didn’t want to see that look on her face. The one that showed that, no matter how forgiving she was, when she looked at him she saw the monster that had been hiding in her closet her whole life.

Not again.

“Hey, I got the key,” she said, waving it in front of his face. He shook himself out of his thoughts and nodded, following her to the locked passage to the next ward. “There should be a safe room right on the other side of here. Let’s call it a day.”

The silence between them was uncomfortable as they watched the Palace melt around them, putting them back in the middle of Shibuya. The first thing Goro did was check the time. It was past eight, once again. He wondered if Akira was alive. He wondered if he should call, or just… leave him alone, for once. Akira would probably prefer the latter. Not that Goro particularly cared.

He stared down at his phone. “I’m not going to call you next time I go in,” he said.

Futaba snapped her neck up to meet his eyes, looking hurt and pissed all at once. “What?! What the hell?” she said in outrage. “You’re kidding, right?”

Goro sighed. “Futaba… you know what comes next,” he said tiredly. 

She hesitated. “There are a hundred little asshole nightmare Akechi’s running around in that place,” she pointed out. “And you’re holding up fine. I can handle one Futaba.”

Goro laughed once, despite himself. “‘Holding up fine’ is a bit of an exaggeration,” he said. He paused. “Are you sure?”

She was quiet for several moments, and he knew that she was putting actual consideration into it. Eventually, she nodded, though it was stiffer than she probably intended. “Please call me,” she said. He scrubbed a hand over his face.

He didn’t have to. She wouldn’t even remember this conversation come morning, let alone the fact that Akira had a palace. He could leave her in blissful ignorance.

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He spent the entire walk home with his phone clutched tightly in his hand, contemplating. He continued contemplating all the way until the clock struck 12 and the world turned black.

When he opened his eyes again, it was to the sight of familiar peeling paint. Sunday morning, at least, was unwavering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI i’m back i’m alive so sorry for the long wait!! hopefully it won’t happen again i really try to make it a point to update within a month at MOST i just hit some really bad writers block but don’t worry i’m back in the game. mostly because i’m afraid p5r is gonna steal my ideas
> 
> as always thank you for reading <3

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on twitter for updates between chapters! @hinatajimes


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